


Legends Never Die

by Gemini_Sweet



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Korrasami - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Slow Build, sort of canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Sweet/pseuds/Gemini_Sweet
Summary: A modern AU semi-real world/Avatar fantastical fanfiction based upon prompts from Tumblr account Korrasami Month 2019





	1. First Meeting

Korra whistled a few notes from the song she’d been listening to as she pulled her duffel bag from behind the driver’s seat. She flexed her arms a bit, assessing the lines of muscle under her brown skin in the summer sun. She was satisfied with the muscle mass she’d gained in preparation for her first collegiate season, but she thought it would be better if she added a little more.

A female voice said, “Hey-ey,” and wiggled her fingers as she passed. Korra couldn’t help offering the girl (woman. _Woman_ ) a grin as she closed the door to Naga – her white 2007 Mustang Shelby GT500 with blue racing stripes that always got the girls (women, now. _Women_ ). Naga didn’t have much of a back seat, which had made moving into the dorms that weekend a bit of a challenge. However, with the help of her parents and the family Expedition, they’d managed to move her shoes, clothes, mini-fridge and computer in only two trips. Two very hot, sweaty trips in mid-August in Houston, TX.

She clicked the remote lock of her beloved coupe as she settled the strap of her duffel on her shoulder. To the east of the small residential parking lot was an outdoor basketball court with some guys showing off in the dying heat of late afternoon. One tried to catch the attention of the woman who’d spoken to Korra, but she pointedly ignored him as she walked past the court. To the west were two matching, solid, square buildings of greyish-tan stone on the other side of the residential parking lot – one of which was Korra’s home-away-from-home for the next four years.

The two buildings were one of five that formed the Quadrangle – the oldest dormitories on the campus of the University of Houston. Four dormitories formed the four corners of the square, while one long building in the middle served as dormitory, cafeteria, convenience store, post office, and information desk. The building that formed the northeast corner didn’t really form a proper corner. Unlike the three other L-shaped buildings, Ben Taub Hall was T-shaped.

As a general rule, freshmen didn’t get to live in the Quads. Although the 60-year old buildings were nothing more than concrete bunkers with fancy limestone siding (and no elevators), they were all double- or single-occupancy suites. Which meant semi-private bathrooms and enough room for two extra-long twin beds, two full-sized desks and chairs, and two bedside bureaus. And co-ed floors.

Most freshmen had to live in Moody Towers, which was more than 20 stories of gender-segregated floors with communal baths and showers on each floor. And the laundry room was on the very, very, very top floor – one story above where the elevator stopped.

Korra Waters, however, had two scoring advantages over most freshmen. One, she was recruited to play basketball for the Lady Cougars. Teammates were usually housed close to each other, as much as possible. Four of her teammates were housed in the Southeast Building – Settegast – directly adjacent to the parking lot. Two, Korra was a pre-med honors student – and Taub Hall was the dormitory for all students in the Honors College.

As Korra walked down the slippery pebbled sidewalk, she watched other students and their parents lug bags and boxes between the Quads and the parking lot. Some were exchanging long goodbyes and even longer hugs, rocking side-to-side. Some were fidgeting next to car windows, nodding as their parents gave unsolicited last-minute advice as the idling cars’ engines added to the stifling heat of a Houston day in mid-August.

Sidestepping a pair of young, dark-skinned guys shouldering a closet rod (with the clothes still on it) between them, Korra weaved her way through the people and up to the wide stone steps of her assigned dorm. She jogged up the five steps and hurried through the wide doorway, grinning her thanks at someone’s dad who held the heavy, metal door open for her.

She sighed in relief as the cool air chilled the sweat that had formed in the minute it had taken for her to walk from air-conditioned car to air-conditioned dorm, despite wearing only black sandals, blue basketball shorts and a white sleeveless t-shirt with the sides ripped open. She ran one hand back over her two-week old chin-length bob, pulling the short wet strands off of her forehead as she jogged up the red-painted stone steps that led to the first-floor landing and the door to her hallway.

Fortunately for Korra, her hard work on the court and at her desk was accompanied by a stroke of luck. She’d been assigned to a first-floor room in the non-elevator five-story building. A first floor room immediately adjacent to the parking lot stairwell. She could look out of the window and check on her four-wheeled baby any time, day or night.

As Korra bent over to put the key into the lock of the first door next to the stairs, she smiled to herself. Her teachers and advisors – even some of her “friends” – had told her to choose basketball or medical school. She’d proven them all wrong. Granted, she hadn’t made A’s in all of her classes. However, the occasional C didn’t stop her from scoring high on the PSAT and SAT and becoming a Merit Scholar.

There were hundreds of excellent basketball players vying for the attention of recruiters. Being a Merit Scholar brought them to her games in droves her senior year. They knew she had the discipline and the drive to master both aspects of “student-athlete”. She chose UH because Houston was her home and her parents and friends could still attend her home games. And, UH had an academic partnership with the only medical school she wanted to attend – Baylor College of Medicine.

Baylor sat in the middle of the Texas Medical Center, surrounded by Hermann and Ben Taub and Methodist. Ever since her car accident, she’d dreamed of being a pediatric surgeon like Dr. Katara, an Inuit woman who helped her make a full recovery.

Korra’s family was Inuit. Her father had traveled to Texas from Alaska to work for the oil and gas industry (where he’d met her mother protesting the pipeline). It wasn’t a popular decision, and his father and brother practically disowned him for turning his back on his people and their sovereignty for money. Still, they accepted the money he sent back home – and they sent Korra a gift every year on her birthday.

She’d flown to Alaska a few times to meet her paternal family. It was a trip she’d both loved and dreaded; the land was breathtakingly beautiful, but her family was so conservative and traditional she was afraid to speak. It didn’t help that her Inupiaq was limited at best. Her parents rarely spoke it at home (unless they were discussing something they didn’t want their daughter to know about).

And, of course, there was the whole feminist bisexual thing.

Sighing, Korra kicked the door shut behind her. The instant her foot made contact, she’d hunched her shoulders and cringed in preparation for the echoing SLAM. She rolled her eyes as she crossed the empty room to her bed. She’d chosen the side closest to the bathroom (and furthest from the traffic of the stairwell). So far, she hadn’t seen or heard from her roommate, some girl from Pearland named Lauren. The extra long twin mattress remained naked in its hypoallergenic white plastic.

Just as Korra was wondering if she’d get lucky enough to _not_ have a roommate the entire year, a fist started pounding on the door to her suitemates’ room. Her parents had insisted she keep it closed and bolted, especially as she hadn’t yet met the two girls (women. _Women_ ). Thinking about bolts reminded her that she’d forgotten to _un_ bolt their door to the shared bathroom.

“Sorry!” Korra yelled, tossing her duffel on her bed as she hurried into the bathroom. “Sorry! I’ll be right there!”

Korra unbolted and swung open the door, the remainder of her apology forgotten as she stared open-mouthed at the tall, green-eyed Asian woman with gorgeous wavy black hair standing in the doorway. A tall, green-eyed Japanese-American woman she _knew_.

“It’s okay,” the tall woman smiled politely, although there was some annoyance in her tone. “It happens. Just try to remember in the future.” When Korra didn’t reply, the woman raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and gestured toward the bathroom. “May I?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Korra backed away, her hand automatically rubbing the back of her neck. When she realized she was still standing in the bathroom, she dropped her hand and stepped back into her room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Once she heard the bolt slide into place behind her, Korra put her face in her hands and quietly groaned. _That’s Asami. Asami Sato._ She had no idea her old childhood friend (and first crush) was still in the _state_ , much less at her school. In her dorm. Sharing a _bathroom_.

_What is she doing here? Wait … didn’t she go to Stanford last year? I swear I read that somewhere. Not that I’m stalking her or anything._

Korra grimaced as she heard the toilet flushing. Realizing she could hear the toilet flushing through the door, she moved away and sat on her bed to give Asami more privacy. She considered how ridiculous that thought was, as Asami wouldn’t know if she was standing on the other side of the wooden door or not. Glancing at the door, she saw the ventilation grate filtering light through the slits and decided it wasn’t ridiculous after all.

She hadn’t seen Asami since the accident. No, she’d seen Asami since then, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk. That had been Korra’s fault. She _hated_ losing, and she’d literally growled as she’d slapped her money into Asami’s gloved hand. Naga was a beautiful race car, but she knew Asami Sato could drive a box car and beat her in a street race. There was only one Satomobile dealership in the world, and they literally built each car by hand. Oil executives, hospital CEOs, and former presidents spent ridiculous amounts of money to own a Satomobile.

She hadn’t known it was Asami until the woman had taken off the black and burgundy helmet and whipped thick, luscious black locks into place with a practiced toss. Korra had recognized Asami instantly, but she could tell Asami hadn’t recognized her. Korra wasn’t the famous genius model of a rich engineering genius artisan, so she shouldn’t have been surprised.

But it still hurt. Just as it hurt, now. Asami still hadn’t recognized her, despite her memorable rudeness.

A knock on the bathroom door pulled Korra out of her pouting self-pity. “Yeah?”

The door opened slowly, with some hesitation, before half of Asami appeared between door and frame. “I just wanted to say, ‘Hi.’ Since we’re sharing a bathroom.”

“Right. Yeah.” Korra stood up and walked toward Asami, hand outstretched. Asami clasped her hand firmly. Korra was surprised at the strength of the grip in the slightly damp hand. The smell of some sort of flower tickled her nose. _Is that her lotion or her soap?_ “I’m Korra.”

“I know,” Asami replied, smiling, her green eyes a little sad. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah.” Korra shrugged, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as she offered a half smile up at the taller woman.

Asami stepped fully into the room and crossed her arms, pressing her shoulder against the door frame. “How are you?”

“Good.” Korra nodded. “I’m good.” When the silence stretched too long, Korra added: “I’m on the basketball team.”

Asami’s eyes brightened at the words. “I heard. I’m so glad you were able to make a full recovery.”

“Yeah,” Korra half-sighed, half-chuckled. “It sucked, but … here I am.”

Asami nodded. Just as she was about to say something else, Korra interrupted her.

“I thought you went to Stanford?” Korra could feel the sweat form on her nose as soon as she’d blurted the words.

“I did,” Asami said, nodding again. “It wasn’t a good fit.”

“But, it’s _Stanford_ ,” Korra said. “You always wanted to g-” Korra froze, panic beating her chest like a hammer.

“You remember that?” Asami said softly, a grateful expression on her face. She waited until Korra nodded before continuing. “I thought I wanted to go to dad’s alma mater, but Stanford was _way_ too conservative for me. I may have my dad’s smarts, but I have my mother’s sensibilities.”

Korra stared into Asami’s eyes. She felt her own blue eyes watering in mirror of Asami’s. “I miss her.”

Asami nodded, lowering her eyes and rubbing one arm.

“Hey,” Korra whispered. She placed a hand on Asami’s upper arm. The taller woman leaned forward until her weight rested on Korra. The Inuit woman wrapped her arms around Asami, marveling at how wonderfully right it felt to hold Asami in her arms. “I missed _you_.”

“I missed _you_ , too,” Asami mumbled into her shoulder. Korra tensed slightly, then sighed into the long arms wrapping around her back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know until…. I’m so, so sorry.”

“We were kids, ‘Sams,” Korra said, the childhood nickname easily falling from her lips. “I get it.”

Asami shook her head and pulled back. “I should’ve _recognized_ you. You were my _best_ _friend_.”

Korra tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “‘ _Were_?’”

Asami laughed. It was deeper than she remembered, but it was just as musical and lovely and it still made Korra’s heart flutter. She grinned up at Asami before they embraced again, both hugging as they held back tears.

Of all of the serendipitous blessings Korra had received that first semester of her first year, meeting Asami again was truly the best. She said a quick prayer that this was the beginning of better days, and not the peak before the roller coaster of life hurled her into reality.


	2. Poetry

Korra and Asami spent several hours filling each other in about their lives. They couldn’t possibly tell everything about the past decade in one night, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Unfortunately, they’d been interrupted by hunger, Korra’s parents (who’d talked to Asami on Korra’s cell phone for nearly 30 minutes), and Asami’s roommate – who’d assumed Asami wasn’t there and started fucking her boyfriend. Loudly.

Which is why Korra and Asami were now sitting on the pebbled concrete in the middle of Cullen Plaza. The plaza was a park space with a huge fountain-pond-art structure nestled between the administrative building, the English building, the Education building and the Science building. The fountain had a walkway across it, wide and covered in the same pebbles as the sidewalks. One side of the walkway had a rounded low wall that reminded Korra of an empty pie pan.

They sat in the pie pan, their backs against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder. Korra rested her elbow on her bent knee opposite of Asami, listening intently as the woman talked under the orange glow of the fog lights. Asami’s legs were folded, one knee resting against Korra’s thigh as she raised her voice just loud enough to hear over the rushing water. As they swatted the occasional mosquito that managed to combat the shifting winds caused by the falling water, their conversation had turned to relationships.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Korra held up one hand. “You dated a _prince_? An _actual_ prince?”

“They call _all_ of the legitimate heirs ‘prince’ and ‘princess’,” Asami chuckled. “His grandfather was the nephew of the previous emperor. He’s not a direct successor.”

“ _Still_ ,” Korra said. “He’s a _prince_.”

“He was a royal pain in my ass,” Asami quipped, rolling her eyes. “He actually believed it was inappropriate for women to drive.”

Korra raised an eyebrow. “He … _did_ know you’re a Sato? Right?”

“Yep.” Asami popped the “p” in her reply. She watched Korra chuckle and shake her head. “What about you?”

“I haven’t dated any princes.”

“No,” Asami chuckled, rocking her shoulder against Korra’s in admonishment. “You know what I mean.”

Korra shrugged and looked across the walkway at one of the galvanized rectangles, water pouring out of the top. She could feel the pumps vibrating beneath them as the water recycled through the installation. A pair of people were walking slowly around the fountain, deep in conversation, on the path toward the campus church. “I’ve dated a few people. Nothing really serious.”

“So…. You haven’t…?”

Korra met Asami’s questioning gaze and raised eyebrow. She imagined she could see a slight blush across her defined cheeks under the fog lights. “I’m not a virgin.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Korra clarified, shaking her head. “It’s just…. It wasn’t….” She gestured vaguely with her elevated hand.

“Ah.” Asami nodded. “Yeah. High school guys aren’t very good.”

“Neither are the girls,” Korra grumbled.

“So you’re a lesbian.”

“No, no. I’ve dated guys, too. I’m bi.”

“Me, too!” Asami clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as her voice echoed back off the stone walls of the surrounding buildings. Korra laughed as she ducked her head, then stopped laughing as Asami flipped her hair over her shoulder with a casual flick of slender wrist. “Sorry.”

Korra shook her head. “No, I get it. Totally.”

Asami snorted. “You sound like a Valley girl.”

“Whatever.” Korra rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised, though,” Asami continued the conversation. “My experiences with girls were _sooo_ much better.”

“One word.” Korra grimaced. “Braces.”

Asami’s mouth dropped into a pained “o”. “Why did you-?”

Anticipating the question, Korra had already pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of the jogging pants she’d swapped for her shorts to ward off some of the mosquitos. She thumbed to a picture of the cheerleader and handed the phone to Asami.

Asami’s eyes roved across the screen, eyebrows raised, taking in the teasing hazel eyes and hourglass figure in the too tight and too short uniform. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Korra shrugged as she re-pocketed her phone. “It didn’t help that she took ‘eating pussy’ literally.”

Asami’s face morphed into horror. “She used her _teeth_?” She shuddered as Korra nodded.

“So,” Korra sighed. “I’m not really ashamed I had sex. It’s more…. I wish I’d waited for…. I don’t know.” Korra shrugged again with a huff.

“Someone good at it?” Asami asked with a chuckle.

“Someone worth it.” Korra met Asami’s gaze. They stared at each other for several long seconds, the rushing water and thrumming pump engines filling the silence.

Korra’s high school was health science magnet program, but as a college preparatory school all of her teachers had been demanding. Not least of which was one of her English teachers, an eccentric Frenchman with Einstein hair who weighted 15 percent of their report card grade on an oral recitation of pre-selected works. As she stared into Asami’s eyes, the words of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee” filtered through her mind:

_“I was a child, and she was a child,_

_In this kingdom by the sea,_

_But we loved with a love that was more than love-_

_[…]But our love it was stronger by far than the love_

_Of those who were older than we-_

_Of many far wiser than we-_

_And neither the angels in Heaven above_

_Nor the demons down under the sea_

_Can ever dissever my soul from the soul_

_[…]For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams_

_[…]And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes_

_Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;[…]”_

“Me, too,” Asami said, voice barely a murmur above the fountain. She cleared her throat and looked down at her wrist as Korra blinked back to reality. She frowned and held it up so she could see her analog watch better in the orange glow. “It’s 3:18.”

Korra yawned, as if hearing the time pressed a button in her brain. “What time is your first class?”

“Eight,” Asami groaned. She stood up and stretched, her t-shirt lifting above the waistband of her shorts to expose her flat stomach. “You?”

“Ten.” Korra took Asami’s offered hand and pulled herself up, taking note with a pleasant surprise that Asami was far stronger than she looked. “Composition 1.”

“Bor-ring,” Asami sing-songed. They started walking back toward their dorm. “I’m so glad I’m through with basics.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t rub it in. Old lady.”

Asami arched an eyebrow. “This ‘old lady’ can still beat you.”

“That was _one_ race,” Korra retorted. “And it wasn’t fair! You obviously removed your governor!”

“Of course,” Asami replied with a flick of her hair. “All of our cars are registered to race. Legally.”

Korra stopped. She waited for Asami to stop and turn around, an eyebrow arched. “Okay then, Sato. How about a foot race? Here to the door.”

Asami eyed the distance from the tree Korra was standing next to, to the parking lot entrance of their dorm. For one, panic-stricken moment, Korra imagined Asami might say no – and she imagined all of the possible implications of that not-so-simple two-letter word.

Then, Asami flashed her a grin, and Korra’s heart beat faster for a different reason. “You’re on.”


	3. Turtleduck

Korra sat in the front row of the auditorium, stifling a yawn as the teacher (professor. Professor) fiddled with the computer on the stage. Other students mumbled around her or rushed into the 300-seat room, their voices and bodies in various states of anxiety and exhaustion. A woman sat next to her on one side; a broad-shouldered man sat on her other side. She barely noticed their presence.

She was exhausted. Partly because Asami hadn’t gone through the bathroom to her own bed until 4:30 that morning. Partly because she’d won their foot race, but then lost their wrestling match. Mostly because of the dreams.

She wasn’t surprised, really. Stress usually triggered them. It had been the night before her first day of school, and Sunday had been an emotional rollercoaster of a day.

She’d practically had to beg her parents to let her bring Naga on campus. They still didn’t know about her street racing, but they had caught her sneaking in after curfew once that summer. They’d spotted the hickey on her neck and – thankfully – jumped to the wrong conclusion. Once she’d pointed out that she lived in a co-ed dorm, they couldn’t really use _that_ transgression to deny her.

And then there was Asami.

_Asami_. She smiled to herself as the professor asked a student with a laptop to help him with the classroom equipment. It was as if she and Asami had never separated, had never been split apart by tragedy and circumstance. It felt so good just to be next to her.

Little wonder she’d dreamt of Asami. She adjusted slightly in her seat as the professor and student finally figured out how to lower the projection screen from the ceiling. Her dreams were disturbing. Not just the mutant animals and people, but the overwhelming feeling that they were more memory than imagination.

She’d woken herself up from her dream 15 minutes before her alarm with a moan instead of the more common screams of terror or bursts of laughter. A _long_ shower followed by a cold rinse was required before she headed to her first class.

Korra nearly jumped out of her seat when something tickled the back of her hand at the same time a male voice whispered loudly in her ear.

“Pssst! Pass this to the girl sitting next to you!”

“What?” Korra leaned back enough to look the guy in the face. He was lighter than her, but darker than Asami, with thick black eyebrows and weirdly spiked black hair. From his facial features she would’ve guessed Vietnamese or Korean, but his eyes were _green_. Other than Asami, she’d never met anyone of Asian-Pacific ancestry with green eyes. _Not too many blue-eyed Inuits outside of your immediate family, either, Korra_.

“Pass. The no-”

“I heard you,” Korra interrupted, glaring at the very loud man. She suddenly recognized the broad-shouldered frame as the guy who was flirting on the basketball court.

A few chuckles came from the row behind them, as well as a snort from the girl (woman. Woman) sitting on the other side of her. Turning her head, she recognized the woman who’d waved at her in the parking lot. Korra had assumed the green-eyed woman was White with a deep summer tan, but up close her features were more Indo-Pacific Asian, too. _There’s definitely more Asian representation at UH than in my high school._

“Opal,” the woman said softly, offering a hand to shake.

“Korra,” she replied, taking the fingers of the hand and squeezing lightly. She frowned when a thick arm pinned her own arm against her chest.

“Bolin!” The guy whisper-shouted.

Opal raised an eyebrow and didn’t take his hand. “Are you for real?”

“The realest, bae.” Bolin winked.

Korra pinched the underside of his arm. “Do you mind?”

“Owww-oo.” Bolin pulled his arm back with a pout, rubbing it with the other hand.

Thankfully, the professor started lecture just then. Unfortunately, that did not mean Korra got to concentrate on what the professor told them. From what she did take in, she was fairly certain it was in the syllabus or the virtual classroom. At least, she hoped it was.

Despite being in the front row directly in front of the professor, Opal chose to use Korra’s notebook to flirt with her. Then, Bolin chose to join the conversation by flirting on Korra’s notebook to Opal. The woman ignored him at first, then somehow the two started arguing about who was the bigger New Kids on the Block fan. That was the point when Korra could finally focus on what the instructor was saying, including the writing assignment due Wednesday about – shit you not – “what you did over the summer”.

Thoroughly unimpressed with Composition 1, when the professor dismissed them at ten minutes to the hour she snatched her notebook off the mounted writing arm mid-argument and picked up her backpack without bothering to put the notebook or pen back into it.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!”

Korra didn’t. She had a team meeting at 11:30a and she’d had to skip breakfast after her extended shower. The Athletics building was a 10-minute fast walk from the Satellite food court, and she was _starving_. Unfortunately, Korra didn’t realize until she’d ordered and received her yummy-smelling double-meat hamburger and smashed potato that she’d left her wallet and access card in the pocket of the jogging pants she’d worn the previous night. _Fuck me_.

“I got it!”

Before Korra could protest, Bolin had stepped around her and had paid for both of their meals with his access card. He winked at her and grinned. “Least I could do after writing all over your stuff. Thanks, by the way. I’m Bolin.”

“I know,” Korra said, bumping elbows with him as they left the line and crossed the food court, their hands full of food. “I’m Korra.”

“You’re that new star point guard!”

Korra grinned. “Yeah! Speaking of, I gotta go. Team meeting.”

“Oh.” Bolin’s face fell, then it lit up again. “Next time, huh?”

Korra couldn’t help herself. Despite how annoying he’d been all morning, something about his immaturity was oddly endearing. And he had bought her food. “Definitely.”

***

When Korra returned to her dorm she was reminded again that her access card was inside of her locked dorm room. She’d taken her keys out habit, but she’d always kept her wallet in her car or her backpack. She usually didn’t need it. Now, she was standing to the side of the steps, staring at her dormroom window, hoping someone would come out or go in soon so she could get out of the sweltering three-o’clock heat.

“Locked out?”

Korra turned around to see Asami approaching from the parking lot. She had a plastic bag with white Styrofoam containers inside of it. Korra dropped her hand from the back of her own neck when her palm registered the hot sweat covering it. “Yeah. Forgot my key card.”

“I remember someone calling me an ‘old lady’ last night.” Asami smirked as she sauntered up the steps, Korra in respectfully close pursuit.

“Didn’t you already kick my ass over that?” Korra quipped as they finally entered the sanctity of air conditioning.

“Someone’s cranky.”

“My people are built for ice, not hell.” Korra tugged at her shirt. “Ugh.”

“You’re a native Houstonian. You should’ve adapted by now.”

“Says the woman whose ancestors lived on a subtropical island.”

“Only a part of Japan is subtropical,” Asami corrected as she unlocked her door. Korra realized she’d walked past her own door and was still standing next to the sophomore. “And I’m only part Japanese.”

“Three-quarters,” Korra said. She followed Asami in when the taller woman tipped her head as an invitation, closing the door behind her. Korra immediately shucked off her backpack, sighing as the cool air hit her wet back.

“That’s still not Japanese enough for some people.” Asami put the food on her desk and began pulling the containers out. “Join me?”

“I don’t wanna eat all your food,” Korra said, waving a hand dismissively. The smell of General Tso’s chicken filled the room. She felt her stomach rumble in response.

“I can’t eat all of this,” Asami said. “But I refused to get the small portion. The prices on campus are absolutely ridiculous! It’s price gouging!” Asami huffed as she waved toward the other side of the room. “Would you get a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge?”

Korra looked over to see a small, silver refrigerator with black trim and a freezer section. It wasn’t a full-sized fridge, but it was definitely larger than her own mini-fridge. Where it sat by the closet door, however, it didn’t seem too big for the room. In fact, when she’d collected the bottles of water and turned around, she noticed a large metal shelf against the wall beside the front door, against the wall of the bathroom. “Your room is a lot bigger than mine.”

“The bathroom takes up your space.” Asami smiled apologetically.

Korra stepped toward Asami and the food. Just as she’d set down the bottles of water on the desk, she noticed something furry and brown peeking from behind Asami’s red pillow. Without thinking or asking permission, she reached behind Asami and pulled the stuffed animal from its resting place.

It was a duck. Or, rather, something like a duck. It was mostly brown, with yellow patches and feet and a turtle shell on its back. There were black markings like eyeliner outlining the yellow surrounding each eye. One of the black glass beads was greyish white where the fake eye had nearly shattered.

Korra’s hands shook as the memories blurred her vision with hot tears.


	4. Occult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory.

It had been an awesome day, what little Korra could remember of it.

She’d met Asami in Catholic school. Although they were all at that particular school because their parents thought it provide a high-quality education, some of the girls had decided that Asami was _too_ smart. When Korra had walked into the bathroom to find four girls pulling Asami’s hair and slapping her face, Korra had jumped on the closest girl’s back. Before one of the bullies had ran away to get a nun, Korra had bloodied one girl’s nose and had armlocked another. Asami had managed to pin another girl to the floor, sitting on the girl’s back.

By the time the gathered parents had worked out the truth (with several angry outbursts from Korra when the other girls had lied), Asami and Korra were fast friends despite being in different grades. Korra had used the grappling moves her father had shown her, and he and Hiroshi agreed both girls should attend a defensive martial arts school – for which Hiroshi had generously paid both tuitions.

The girls had spent every moment they could together. Korra hadn’t made many friends at the all-girls school, and she was constantly in trouble. The only reason she hadn’t been kicked out was because the Mother Superior said Korra reminded her of herself at that age. Asami had lots of so-called “friends”, but she never showed them her mechanical projects or let them into her father’s workshop.

Korra and Asami understood each other. They trusted each other. They held each other’s secrets. And there was no bigger secret in the Waters family than Korra’s dreams. They were vivid and intense, and unlike most people’s dreams, she could recall her dreams in exact detail. Sometimes, they were nightmares, and just as vivid and intense (if not more so). She would wake up screaming, swinging her arms at anyone who touched her until she realized she was safe in her bed.

To Korra’s great embarrassment, she’d had a night terror the first time she had spent the night at the Sato house. Asami had hugged her. That simple action had calmed her down faster than any of the arm pinning and shouting her parents had tried to wake her up and keep her from giving them a black eye. She’d told Asami about her dreams, and Asami had listened. Hugged and listened.

When Korra was eight-years-old and Asami was nine, their families had planned an extra special day. Mrs. Sato had driven them to Kemah to visit the brand-new Boardwalk built along the coast of Galveston Bay. The girls loved the beach, but it was too cold at that time of year. Kemah Boardwalk was the next best thing.

It had been just the three of them – Korra, Asami, and Mrs. Sato. They’d almost canceled the outing when her parents had been asked to fly to Canada to help his company negotiate with Anishinaabe in a First Nation land his company was interested in developing. Mr. Sato was always too busy, but Mrs. Sato had assured everyone she could handle the girls by herself for one day.

On the midway, the girls’ attention was immediately captured by a booth with a racing game. The booth was operated by a little old woman with long gray hair secured with chopsticks in a wild nest of a bun on top of her head. She sat behind the counter of water guns on a stool, hand stitching a stuffed animal – a penguin with too many arms. Above the old woman’s head were many more stuffed animals, all mutated in some way.

Korra and Asami had exchanged glances and bolted for the booth, Mrs. Sat calling behind them. Korra had seen animals like those before, but only in her dreams. There were dragons and six-legged bison with beaver tails and polar bears with dog head and back legs. It was as if the woman had reached inside of her head and pulled out a miniature version of each straight out of her dreams.

She had to have one.

Three games later and Korra was pointing to a polar bear with dog head and legs. Asami had gasped behind her, and Korra had paused to look. Asami’s gaze was fixed on a fuzzy brown and yellow duck with a turtle shell on its back. The expression on Asami’s face as she gazed up at the smaller toy was all it took.

Handing Asami that stuffed animal was the last thing she remembered clearly about that day. What she could remember were vivid moments in a sea of static. Looking over her shoulder at Asami as they ran. Mrs. Sato’s green eyes in the rearview mirror as they sang a song. A red-faced man in the car next to them pointing and shouting as they drove up the highway back home. The turtleduck suspended in the air as screams filled the car.

She’d woken up in the hospital connected to tubes: down her throat, in her arms, in her _skull_. She was so disoriented it took her a few days to realize she couldn’t feel anything below her hips. Understanding why no one had bothered to take her to the bathroom was humiliating. It shouldn’t have mattered. She was alive.

Mrs. Sato had died.

Korra had wanted to see Asami. She knew her best friend needed her. For their part, her parents had tried. But Yasuko Sato’s Irish father was calling Hiroshi Sato a bad father because he was sad. A judge had temporarily placed Asami with her maternal grandparents until Hiroshi could find someone to watch Asami while he worked. Korra’s parents would have volunteered, but _Korra_ was their priority – and at least one of them was at the hospital by her side every minute of every day.

So, Korra got better. The way she saw it, the only way she could see Asami again was if she was back to normal. So, she did everything the therapists asked and more. When she couldn’t sleep, she’d focused on moving her toes, then flexing her feet, then bending her knees. When she was too tired or in too much pain to exercise, she read for hours on the electronic tablet Hiroshi Sato had sent to her – with educational games pre-installed.

Everyone called her recovery a miracle. Dr. Katara called it hard work and a strong will. Korra just wanted to see Asami.

But that didn’t happen. Asami was still in Dallas with her grandparents when Korra came home. Mother Superior had died, and her parents couldn’t afford to put her back in the Catholic school. Fortunately, there was a magnet middle school that taught advanced and mentally or physically challenged students on the same campus. Public school, college preparatory education, and teachers and staff who knew how to keep her safe.

She’d passed the entrance exam. Seventh grade she was working with the girls’ physical education teacher one-on-one every school day to learn the fundamentals of basketball. Eighth grade she broke school records and won homecoming queen.

Still, no Asami.

Korra had been terrified of cars. She forced herself to get back in the saddle, playing first-person car video games (although her parents banished “Grand Theft Auto” from the house) and begging her father to teach her how to drive. She spent summers teaching at basketball camps to earn money for a car. She learned about street racing and though she could make some money doing that, too. At 16 she passed her test with flying colors and received her provisional license. And her parents had surprised her by taking her to the dealership to pick out Naga.

Still, no Asami.

It had hurt, but Korra never blamed Asami. She knew Asami. She’d also gained a crash course in overprotective parenting and administrative bureaucracy. Satomobile had only grown more successful, and when Asami wasn’t in boarding school she was always at her father’s side. Stress and time had strained the Waters-Sato families’ bond, and Korra had only received one birthday card after the accident.

To see each other again and reconnect had been _wonderful_ – so wonderful that neither one of them really wanted to talk about _why_ they’d separated in the first place. Korra had known they’d have to talk about it eventually. She just didn’t think it would be so soon.

As she tried to hold back the tears, Asami gently pulled her down to the bed and hugged her. Korra wrapped her arms around Asami, one hand squeezing the turtleduck, and wondered why she’d waited so long.

***

In the parking lot outside of their dorm, two men and one woman sat in an air-conditioned sedan. They’d watched the two women greet each other and walk into the building together. They waited for about 15 minutes, then pulled out of the parking lot. A few practiced turns and they’d entered a neighborhood that hadn’t seen development in more than 50 years.

The driver followed the gravel-and-shell driveway around the back of the small, low house. Once parked, the trio exited the car and entered the house through the unlocked back door into the kitchen. They walked through the kitchen into the living room, where a naked man was tied to an iron chair.

Walking around to the front of the chair, the woman narrowed her eyes and tsk’d. His blood was drying around the rope bonds and gag, his completely black eyes wide and expression still bearing witness to the fear that had ended his life. Symbols were burned into his skin, deep red and purple within the flesh.

The driver sighed and tilted his head in acceptance. “That settles it. It has to be her.”

“It settles nothing,” the second man said. “Harmonic convergence isn’t until next year. It doesn’t matter how strong her chi is if the Master consumes her before they can bond.”

“The longer we wait the more time we give the Fallen One to interfere,” the driver argued.

“No.” Both men stopped talking as the woman stood up straight from her inspection of the tortured corpse. “He was the fourth. We only have enough dragon’s blood for a fifth attempt. You know the penalty if we fail the Master.”

Both men bowed. “Yes, Priestess.”

She approached the driver and waited for the men to stand before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I understand your urgency, brother. I am just as eager to see the Master return as you.” She met his gaze an held it. “We. Cannot. Fail. Him. Again. Understand?”

“Yes, Priestess.” The driver nodded.

The priestess nodded in return, then headed toward the narrow, dark hallway leading to the bedrooms of the small house. “Throw the vessel in the bayou for the ‘gators. Tomorrow we plan for the Solstice and Vaatu’s return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where it gets weird, folks. You can thank the order of the prompt list for what's about to come. I also admit I've borrowed from other media to pull this plot together. I'll let you guess which ones. Yes, more than one.
> 
> Oh! Before I forget: A few of the prompts didn't quite fit, so I'll be using those as "vacation" days. I'l let you know in the end notes when that happens. That said, I'll see you tomorrow -- "if God says the same and the creek don't rise".


	5. Seasons

“They wouldn’t let me see you.”

Korra looked up from the Styrofoam container as she chewed a mouthful of fried rice and chicken. After their crying session, Korra had told Asami about her recovery and how she’d worked so hard in the hopes she could reunite with her best friend. Asami had listened, only interrupting to ask a question. When Korra’s stomach growled again, Asami handed the portion she’d set aside for Korra to the hungry woman.

They’d stopped talking for a few minutes, focused on their food. Asami wasn’t looking at Korra. She was picking through her fried rice with her chopsticks, placing the carrots in a neat little pile to one side.

“Who wouldn’t?” Korra asked after she’d swallowed.

“The nurses,” Asami said. She frowned at her plate. “No minors allowed in ICU.”

“Oh,’ Korra said. “I didn’t know you had tried.”

“You were still in the coma. I knew you couldn’t talk to me, but I wanted to see you before I left,” Asami said. She sighed and deftly picked up a clump of rice and placed it in her mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing.

“Right. Your grandparents.”

Asami huffed. “ _Henry_ , you mean.” She stabbed a piece of chicken.

Korra lifted an eyebrow as she swallowed. “That bad?”

Asami rolled her eyes as she finished chewing. “Worse. He _claimed_ he was worried about me, but he just didn’t want a ‘ _Jap’_ raising his green-eyed granddaughter.”

“What?” Korra looked aghast at her old friend. “But, your grandmother-”

“He treated her like his _servant_ ,” Asami snapped. “And she _let_ him. I’d never understood why my mother never spoke to them or visited them. The few times they’d come to visit, she’d be on edge the entire time. He was a racist, misogynistic, small-minded brute.” She stabbed another piece of chicken.

“Did he hurt you?” Korra felt herself tense, ready to punish anyone who would dare to hurt Asami.

“Not physically,” Asami said, shaking her head. “Not me, at least.” Before Korra could express her disgust, Asami continued. “Dad’s lawyers made sure I was safe. A social worker came to visit every week _with_ a police officer.”

“Asami,” Korra murmured, placing a hand on her arm. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry, Korra,” Asami said, finally looking at Korra. “I should’ve tried to get in touch with you when I moved back home.” She dropped her gaze again, looking nervously to the side.

Korra gently squeezed her arm. “But?”

Asami sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I was afraid you hated me.”

“What? Why would I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Asami met her eyes again, smiling sadly.

Korra set her container of food on the floor and pulled Asami into her arms. “I never blamed you, Asami. Never. It wasn’t your fault.”

She felt Asami nod her head with a sniffle. Asami squeezed her back with one arm and pulled away. Her green eyes glimmered in the florescent light of the dorm room’s ceiling fixture. “I _really_ missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Korra said, smiling. She reached up and tucked a loose strand of Asami’s jet black hair behind an alabaster ear. The thin layer of makeup did nothing to hide the blush that bloomed across Asami’s cheeks.

“Finish your food,” Asami said, smiling as she continued eating with less violence.

Korra had no sooner picked up her container when they heard a knock. When the person knocked a second time, Korra realized they were at her door, not Asami’s. Setting her food on the desk, Korra hurried to Asami’s door and opened it.

Sticking her head out into the wide hallway, she saw a very tall man with spiky black hair in front of her door. He was cute. Too bad for him she was more interested in the woman sitting on the bed behind her. “Hello?”

The man turned to face her, his amber eyes questioning under pointy black eyebrows.

_I’ll follow you into battle, no matter how crazy things get. I’ve got your back…._

“I’m…. Hey? You okay?”

_… and I always will._

“Korra? Korra!”

Korra groaned as she blinked against the bright white fluorescent light. She felt the rough carpet of the dorm room floor beneath her, then felt the damp rag draped across her forehead. A gentle hand was on her shoulder.

“Korra?” Asami asked.

“Yeah,” Korra mumbled, clearing her throat as she slowly forced herself to sit up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Asami said. “You said ‘hello’ to the R.A., then you passed out.”

“It’s probably the heat,” a male voice said.

Korra looked up. Standing next to the door with his arms folded was the amber-eyed man who’d been knocking on her door. “You’re Mako.”

The man nodded. “I was just letting everyone know about the emergency safety drill meeting tonight. After last year, we want everyone to be prepared in case we’re hit by another hurricane. Season doesn’t end until November.” Mako paused, his pointy eyebrows drawing together as he studied Korra. “I think you should go to the student clinic.”

“No,” Korra said, standing up with Asami’s help.

“It’s just down the sidewalk-”

“NO.” Korra glared at the man. He glared back. “I’m fine.”

“Just trying to help,” Mako muttered, rolling his eyes. “It’s a mandatory meeting. If you don’t sign the attendance sheet it’s an automatic write up. Three write ups and you’re evicted.” He waved with one hand as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. A few seconds later, they heard him knocking on the next door.

“Asshole,” Korra muttered, glaring at the closed door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the clinic?” Asami said. “Maybe you did get overheated?”

Korra shook her head and met Asami’s worried gaze. “Do … do you remember what I told you about my dreams? About the guy who shot fire from his fists?” When Asami nodded, she continued. “That’s _him_. That’s Mako.”

                                                                                                    ***

Asami and Korra sat next to each other in the basement of Taub Hall, along with most of the other residents of the dorm. A popcorn machine was running, and several residents were munching the buttered, salty, fluffy kernels out of red-white-and-blue paper sacks. The smell of the popcorn didn’t quite mask the odors of mildew and fresh paint.

Korra wrinkled her nose at the warring smells. Hurricane Ike and Tropical Storm Allison before it had flooded the campus in recent years. You expected a basement to flood in Houston; that’s why most houses didn’t have them. She wondered if there was any black mold lingering underneath the fresh paint.

Mako and the other residential advisors of their dorm were standing in the middle of the crowd of students. Or, rather, Mako was standing and the other residential advisors were sitting on counters and playing on their phones. Posterboards with exit routes and meeting areas clearly marked in red was taped to all four sides of one pillar, so every student could see what Mako referenced as he spoke.

If it didn’t weird her out so much, Korra might’ve found his excessive dedication amusing. It was so typically _Mako_.

“Any questions?” Mako asked, finally coming to the end of his 15-minute speech. “Okay. There will be a fire drill this semester. When it happens just follow instructions and everyone will stay safe.”

“When is the fire drill?” A woman asked.

“We don’t know,” Mako said.

“How will we know if it’s real or not?” A man asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mako said.

“But how will I know to bring my stuff?” The man complained.

“You don’t,” Mako said. “If there’s a fire, you don’t risk your life or the life of emergency officials so you can grab your stuff.”

“But-”

“You follow instructions in a fire _drill_ just as you would in a _real_ fire,” Mako interrupted. “That’s the _point_ of a _drill_. Any other questions?”

No one said anything.

“Okay.” Mako raised his voice to be heard over the sudden swell of conversation. “Keep watching the news! Hurricane season isn’t over! Make sure you signed the attendance sheet before you leave!”

“I think hurricane season is the only real season Houston has,” Asami said as they stood up.

Korra chuckled. “Summer and hurricane.”

“Crawfish,” added one woman who’d overheard their conversation.

“Rodeo,” another woman added.

“RenFest,” a man added as they headed for the wide, red-painted, stone stairs.

“That’s not in Houston,” Korra said.

“Close enough,” the guy shrugged.

The impromptu group continued the conversation up the stairs. Just as she was walking through the double doors to another flight of stone steps, Korra chanced a look back into the community space. Her eyes immediately locked with Mako’s. Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment the two stared at each other before one of the other residential advisors said something that caught his attention.

The spell broken, Korra whipped her head around to find her group had only advanced a step or two in the milling throng. Introductions were made: the first woman was Denise, a freshman from Houston. The second woman was Tammy, a freshman from a city outside of Dallas. The guy was a longtime friend and classmate of Tammy’s named Herman, also a freshman.

“What’s your major?” The guy asked Asami.

“Electrical Engineering,” Asami replied.

“You should switch to computers,” Herman said. “That’s where the money is.”

Denise burst out laughing, but a look from Korra and she kept her mouth shut. Smiling, but shut.

They parted ways on the first-floor landing, as the other three lived on the third floor. This time, Korra and Asami both went into their separate rooms, but she didn’t have to wait long before there was a knock on the adjoining door.

“Come in!” Korra called. She smiled as Asami poked her head into the room.

Asami entered the room and closed the door behind her. “Still no roommate?”

“Not yet,” Korra said.

“Hmm.” Asami leaned her hip against Korra’s desk as she watched Korra prepare her backpack for the next day’s classes. “So?”

Korra sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. “It’s fucking _weird_. His voice, his mannerisms, his … _everything_. It’s just like the turtleduck. Like someone plucked him out of my head and put him in the real world.”

“Only he’s not a toy. He’s a real boy.”

“I know I sound crazy, but I _know_ him. I don’t know how I know him, but I _know_ him.” Korra huffed and dropped her head back, staring at the off-white painted ceiling. “Maybe I am crazy.”

“Maybe.”

Korra tilted her head to glare at Asami through one eye.

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know.” Korra shrugged. “We’re friends in my dreams.”

“Have you ever had dreams about me?”

Korra felt her heart drop into her stomach, then leap into her throat. Something in Asami’s eyes held her to the truth. She nodded.

“Before or after we first met?”

Korra shrugged. “I was six. Sometimes I’m not sure if what I remember was real or not.”

“Hmm.” Asami stepped around the edge of Korra’s bed and sat at the foot of it. “Korra? There’s something I need to confess.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Korra sat next to her. “What is it?”

“That day,” Asami said. “Why did you give me the turtleduck?”

“You wanted it,” Korra shrugged.

Asami nodded. She took a deep breath and looked Korra directly in the eye. “What kind of dreams have you had about me?”

Korra exhaled a panicked, half-laugh. She shook her head as she thought of the many dreams she’d had of Asami, including the one she’d just had that morning. Dreams of racing down city streets in a classic roadster at breakneck speeds. Dreams of fighting, dreams of dancing, dreams of making love. She couldn’t tell Asami about _those_ dreams. They’d only just reconnected. If Korra had a chance at a first date….

Korra blinked slowly, a memory – or, rather, the memory of a dream – coming into focus in the movie of her mind. She and Asami were on a date, Asami’s head cradled against her chest, her cheek resting against Asami’s ebony waves. They were inside of some sort of boat, and the gentle waves reflected the gold light of a vine-covered tower. There was a chill in the night air, and Korra knew it was the last night of the season. No more that year would the hollowed-out wood-and-metal turtleducks venture out onto the protected inlet of the bay before they were housed for the winter.

“I-I,” Korra swallowed, trying to collect her thoughts. Had she told Asami about that dream? When had she first had it? She couldn’t remember.

“Ever since I met you,” Asami said, her voice quiet and deliberately calm. “I’ve dreamt about you. Of us. Just one dream, the same dream. Not the kind of dreams you told me about. This was a romantic dream. Of us. On a date.”

“A turtleduck pedal boat,” Korra whispered.

“A turtleduck pedal boat,” Asami echoed, nodding.

They sat in silence for several seconds, blue and green eyes searching the others face. “Why-” Korra cleared her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were in Catholic school and I was seven. I was afraid I’d lose my only real friend the same week I found you,“ Asami chuckled. Her smile faltered as tears formed in her eyes. “I lost you anyway.”

“No. No, you didn’t,” Korra said, pulling Asami into a tight embrace. Her heart fluttered when Asami’s slim fingers curled into her shirt. “I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Asami asked her shoulder.

“Promise.” Korra smirked into Asami’s hair. “At least until basketball season starts.”

Later, showered and alone in her room, the memory of Asami’s laughter brought a smile to Korra’s lips as she waited for sleep. They shared the same dream that night, floating on the golden waves, enjoying the last night of the season before the long, cold winter.


	6. A Drunken Night

Korra turned down the volume as she turned off of South Post Oak into her neighborhood. Plenty of people rode through the suburban streets bassing loud enough to rattle bedroom windows, but Korra thought it was disrespectful. She liked hip-hop but she didn’t feel it necessary to force everyone to listen to her boomin’ system. And Naga most definitely had a boomin’ system.

Hip-hop and rap were guilty pleasures. She loved the energy of a thumpin’ beat, but she knew the lyrics and videos were homophobic and misogynistic. It was easy to ignore those issues when she was hanging out with her teammates or at a party.

Home was different. Her parents liked a few of the popular songs, but they definitely disapproved of the bigotry, violence and excessive sexual messaging. It would be very disrespectful to pull into the driveway with “Pop, Lock and Drop It” blasting from the speakers.

Korra killed the engine and smiled as she sighed. It was good to be home. And not just because she’d run out of clean underwear. She’d missed the smell of her dad’s barbecue, and the sounds of her mother’s music, and the comfort of closing her bedroom door and not worrying about some stranger with a key intruding in her space.

Still, she missed Asami.

Korra pouted at the thought, then shook her head and glared at herself in the rearview mirror. “No. You’ve already texted her ten times since she left this morning. Quit trippin’.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and pressed the button to open the trunk. Grabbing her keys, she stepped out of the car and checked her pockets for phone and wallet as she closed the door. She walked around to the trunk of her car and lifted blue-striped white top the rest of the way. Just as she was about to lean in to grab her giant bag of laundry, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Korra pulled out her phone and grinned at “Turtleduck” on her phone. She opened the message from Asami.

[Turtleduck]: Made it safe?

[Korra]: Just got home. Miss you.

[Turtleduck]: Miss you 2. TTYL

[Korra]: :)

Pocketing her phone, Korra reached for her bag again, only to be interrupted by a pair of arms grabbing her from behind. Laughing, she held on as she was lifted into the air and swung in a circle. “Da-ad! Put me down!”

Once down on the ground, Korra turned to squeeze her father as tightly as possible in a proper hug. Tonraq had worked up from roughneck to mudlogger and was home for his two weeks between hitches. His six-four frame was a solid mass of muscle from years of tripping pipe. Her father placed a giant hand on the back of her head, and Korra sighed deeply into his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Sweetheart.”

The deep baritone echoing through her cheek made her smile. She was _home_.

“Come on,” Tonraq chuckled, patting her shoulder. She stepped back and looked up at her father’s smiling face and blue eyes. “Your mother’s making gumbo.”

 Korra filled them in on her first three weeks of school. Classes were going well. Her teammates seemed cool, but she spent most of her time with other students in the Honors College. Bolin and Opal were dating. Korra and Asami had trounced them when they’d gone bowling the previous weekend. Bolin’s brother, Mako, was their R.A., and the brothers couldn’t be more different. Opal was raised by her grandmother. Bolin and Mako were adopted. There was a party the following weekend.

“I hope there won’t be alcohol involved,” Tonraq said, eyebrow raised.

“Dad,” Korra sighed, rolling her eyes. “Seniors live in the Quads, too. Even Mako can’t keep them from drinking their own alcohol. That they legally purchased.”

 “Which _you_ won’t be drinking.” Her mother, Senna, gave her a stern look across the round dinner table. “Because you’re only _18_. Right?”

“Right,” Korra muttered before shoving a saltine loaded with sausage, rice and shrimp into her mouth.

“Is Asami going to this party?” Tonraq asked.

Korra nodded her head and held up a hand until she swallowed. “It’s in the dorm. On our floor. We actually don’t have to _go_ anywhere.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Korra,” Tonraq said.

“Anything could happen,” Senna added.

“We’ll be fine,” Korra huffed. “Asami and I can take care of ourselves.”

“Two girls at a party with a bunch of drunk men is not a fair fight,” Tonraq argued.

“We’re not _girls_ , we’re _women_ ,” Korra retorted.

“Even more reason,” Tonraq said.

“Maybe you two should come here next weekend,” Senna suggested. “I can make kettlecorn and we can watch a movie. Wall-E’s out on DVD.”

“I’m not a child!” Korra yelled, standing up from the table, palms pressed into the wood. “You can’t stop me from going to a party in my own dorm!”

“You’re still our daughter, Korra,” Tonraq said, the volume of his voice increasing. “It’s our job to keep you safe.”

Korra growled and pushed away from the table, stomping from kitchen through den through back hallway to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her, fell onto her made bed, and screamed her frustration into the pillow.

_This_ part of being home she did _not_ miss. Her parents never allowed her to go to any parties in high school. She’d snuck out of the house for every party she’d ever attended. If the house wasn’t in her neighborhood, she’d caught rides with teammates. Once she got Naga, she’d figured out how to put her car in neutral and use the driveway’s momentum (and a little muscle) to get it down the street before jumping in and starting the engine.

The Waters family spent the remainder of the three-day holiday avoiding the subject of parties. The unspoken truce led to a peaceful weekend, but the subject still lingered between them. Korra did her laundry and her homework and called Asami to vent and to listen to Asami vent about Mr. Sato. Both of their fathers were overprotective; Asami had to debate him out of calling the Dean of Residential Affairs to complain.

Korra and Asami spent every night talking on the phone until they could barely keep their eyes open and texted one another several times each day.  When they reunited, they spent that Monday night talking until early Tuesday morning on Korra’s extra long twin bed. Her roommate was still a no-show, so they usually hung out in Korra’s room.

They’d almost kissed, once, during the second week of school. Korra knew Asami was attracted to her, but neither one of them wanted to risk destroying their second chance. At the last moment, they’d both stopped and waited for the other to cross the line. After a few tense seconds, Asami had leaned back. She’d offered Korra an apologetic smile and then repeated that she needed to go to bed.  

Neither of them had braved coming that close again. School helped, a lot. So did the extra workouts. But saying goodnight was getting a little hard and taking a little longer each night.

Friday finally arrived. The party didn’t start until 8p officially, but some students had started drinking that afternoon. The main room for the party was “The Pit”, a suite of four men who’d bolted their beds into bunks in one room and put a couch, fridge and media center in the other.

They had a self-serve bar cart in the “living room” with a cooler full of beer next to it. Asami made them two red plastic cups of vodka and koolaid and joined Korra, Bolin and Opal in the hallway. “Tipsy” was blasting from the speaker stationed beside the door of The Pit. Mako’s door to his single-person R.A. room was open so he could hear what was going on, but after shooting a scowl at his underage brother he’d remained inside.

Halfway through her cup and a few songs later, Korra was dancing in the hallway sandwiched between Opal and Asami. A chorus of male onlookers cheered them on, but Korra’s attention was focused on keeping up with Asami’s backside as black jeggings gyrated against her basketball shorts. When one guy jumped in front of Asami, she stopped dancing and grabbed Korra’s hand. Without a word, she led Korra to her dorm room (propped open with a tennis shoe).

Lips connected before the door slammed shut. Korra’s back was against the cool, painted cement wall, her hands palmed black jeggings while Asami’s fingers tugged at her hair. Hot, moist air puffed across her cheek as Asami’s tongue danced across her own. Her lips tingled, a thousand sensations sparking through her body.

Asami was a _great_ kisser. Not to too hard, not too soft, lips caressing with each firm thrust of tongue. Asami’s lipstick wasn’t sticky or waxy; it was silky, and slightly sweet. Korra moaned as Asami pressed their bodies closer, breasts touching and thighs warm between legs.

Part of Korra’s brain knew they should stop. They were drunk. They hadn’t even discussed sex. Okay, they _had_ discussed sex – a lot – but not explicitly about having sex with each other. They’d been too scared to kiss! And now one of Asami’s hands had traveled away from her hair and was pulling up the hem of Korra’s tank top.

“Wait,” Korra gasped, turning her head to break their kiss but leaving her hands attached to Asami’s backside. “Wait. Are you-?”

“Yes,” Asami interrupted, capturing Korra’s lips once more.

With Amazonian effort, Korra let go of Asami and pressed her palms into the taller woman’s shoulders, separating their lips again. “Wait. ‘Sams.” Korra stopped talking as Asami traced her lips with a slender thumb. She trembled underneath the intensity of emeralds in the shadowed light of her narrow entryway.

“I want to show you,” Asami murmured softly, then pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing the painted flesh with a quiver.

Korra stared up at Asami for a moment, then nodded. It only took a moment for them to regain their rhythm. Her heart was beating so fast she was getting lightheaded. She turned her head aside to get more oxygen, only to gasp and catch herself against the wall as Asami teased her neck and her knees buckled.

Asami chuckled and backed away, taking Korra’s hand again and leading her to the blue-sheeted bed. She easily pushed Korra to sit on the bed, then stepped away. She stepped out of her black flats, then her fingers began to unbutton her black jeggings. As her hands reached mid-thigh, Korra realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Free of the constraints to her lower half, Asami straddled Korra’s lap and resumed their kiss. They started moving to the music thumping in the hallway. Korra’s hands were full of Asami’s smooth, warm, strong thighs. She groaned as one of Asami’s hands squeezed her breast.

“OH MY GOD!!!”

Korra and Asami both whipped their heads toward the voice. In the entryway stood an angry, older blonde woman. Behind her was a blonde woman about their age who looked a lot like her, being ushered back out of the room by a man with a beet red neck. It seemed Lauren, from Pearland, had finally arrived – _with_ her parents.

Korra closed her eyes. “ _Fuck_.”


	7. In the Moonlight

It rapidly escalated into a flaming ball of bullshit.

Lauren’s mother started into the whole “you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself” speech and Asami went _smooth_ _off_. Korra watched in amazement as she simultaneously shimmied back into her jeggings and shut down the older woman’s lecture with a tirade of her own about the woman _not_ being _her_ mother and she was a “consenting fucking adult”. By the time Mako came into the room, the woman had resorted to calling Asami a _very_ derogatory Chinese slur and Korra was on her feet beside Asami, yelling: “Say it again! Say it again, you racist bitch!”

The police were called. The campus police showed up. Lauren’s mother refused to leave the room. Four Houston police officers showed up. Lauren’s father tried to have Mako arrested for serving alcohol to “minors”. Both the campus and city police officers explained to Lauren’s parents – several times – that adults who chose to serve themselves alcohol while in the presence of a guardian over 21 (aka the residential advisor, Mako) was entirely legal. Also, Lauren was 18 and the legal resident and _they_ had no right to be in the room without _Korra’s_ permission.

Lauren started cussing out her own parents. As far as she was concerned, this was all _their_ fault. _She’d_ wanted to go to the University of Texas with all her friends. She screamed she hated UH, she hated them, she wished they would die, and then demanded they take her back home.

So, Lauren and her parents returned to Pearland. The police officers left. The party was revived when Jesus (not his real name but the beard and the hair…) tied a university flag over his boxer shorts and ran from room to room brandishing a huge cow bone in the air while yelling, “Aqua vitae ad libitum! We’re gettin’ _fucked_ _up_!!!”

Korra tried to get back into the party, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt angry and guilty and angry about feeling guilty and incredibly, stupendously horny. Unfortunately, Asami had received a phone call from her father at some point during the party and rushed off to her room to better hear the conversation. Waiting for Asami’s return, Korra lost track of the number of red cups she’d consumed when she stumbled into one of the four stairwells, flopped down on the second step, and rested her cheek against the coolness of the painted cement wall.

Saturday greeted her with a kick in the head. She was in her bed, alone, still fully clothed (sans shoes). She didn’t remember going to bed, or how she left the stairwell. She thought about Asami, and her stomach twisted violently. She barely grabbed her trash basket in time. The smell of old vomit reached her nose and caused her to vomit a few extra times.

Finally spent, Korra grabbed the bottle of water off her bureau and rinsed her mouth out. A scratching at her door caused her to squint toward the entryway. A hesitant Mako peeked his head around the corner, his pointy eyebrows wrinkled with his permanent expression of concern.

“I brought you something to eat,” Mako said, holding up a plastic bag with containers in it.

Korra grimaced. Food was the last thing on her mind. “Thanks.”

“It’s hot-and-sour soup.” Mako came into the room and set the bag on the bureau. He started opening the containers. “Trust me. It’s the best remedy for a hangover.”

“I just need Gatorade,” Korra mumbled, her mouth watering as the pungent aroma hit her nose. She swallowed against the urge to vomit again.

“Got that, too.” Mako smiled as he held up two bottles of acid green lemon-lime liquid. “Come on, try it. Can’t make you any worse.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic with a T-rex stomped around in her head, so she scooted gingerly closer to the bureau and took the offered spoon. She hummed in relief as she swallowed the first spoonful of hot, spicy broth. “Oh, wow.”

Mako chuckled as he slurped from his own container of soup. They ate in silence, the voices of students filtering into the room as they passed by the open door to various destinations on a Saturday….

“What time is it?” Korra asked, wondering where her phone was.

“11:36,” Mako said, tapping his 3G iPhone on her bureau. “It’s plugged up on your desk.”

Korra looked (too quickly) over to her desk. She saw a folded sheet of notebook paper underneath it. Her name was written on it in Asami’s handwriting. Standing up very slowly, she trudged over to the desk and opened the note.

“ _Had to go home. I’ll explain later. Mako said he’d keep an eye on you_.”

Korra frowned at the note. She vaguely remembered Asami leaving her and talking on her phone in Japanese.

“Everything okay?” Mako asked.

“Hmm?” Korra glanced up at him. “Oh, yeah. Thanks, by the way.” Korra returned to the bed, placing the note under her pillow before returning to her rapidly cooling soup.

Mako shrugged as he took a swig of his Gatorade. He studied her as she ate, his plastic container empty between them.

“What?” Korra finally asked, annoyed at his attention. She picked up her bottle of lemon-lime electrolytes.

“Have we met before?

Korra wasn’t expecting the question. She hesitated a split second before cracking the seal on the bottle. She slowly took a sip, swallowed, and then cleared her throat. She and Asami had assumed she had met him before and just inserted him into her dreams. Something in Korra disagreed. She shrugged. “Maybe?”

“I think we have,” Mako said. “But I can’t remember where.”

Korra raised an eyebrow. “Basketball?”

“Nah,” Mako said. “Never played. Too busy working. Ever been to the Meyer Park AMC?”

“Not really,” Korra sighed. Like parties, movie theaters and malls were also places her parents didn’t want her to go. They worried that the one time they let her go without them some nutjob would shoot up the place with an AR-15. “Why?”

“I used to work there,” Mako said, squinting at her. “Hmm. It’ll come to me. In the meantime.” He stood up, grabbing the trash can as he did. “I’ll clean this out. Be right back.”

Korra watched him leave with the black, metal can of vomit as she tipped the bottle of Gatorade to her lips. She wondered why he didn’t just clean it in her shower, but she wasn’t going to complain if he wanted to dirty his own shower. While he was gone, she checked her phone for messages. She had one from Asami saying she’d made it safely home; a few from Bolin telling her how drunk he was; one picture from Opal of Bolin passed out and hugging a stuffed orange weasel with a goofy smile on his face; and a text from her Dad telling her he loved her and “call your mother”.

She was still on the phone with her mother when Mako returned with her wastebasket. She lied and said nothing happened at the party and that she hadn’t been drinking as he exited the room. Mako rolled his eyes but said nothing as he waved and left, closing the door softly behind him. As soon as the conversation was over, she felt exhausted. So, she dropped two alka seltzer tablets in a cup of tap water, downed the fizzy concoction, and passed out.

Korra hummed as cool fingers brushed her hair from her forehead. She blinked open her eyes to see Asami sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. She smiled up at Asami, dust dancing in the late afternoon sunlight that gleamed iridescent on Asami’s jet black waves.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Asami whispered.

“Hey,” Korra croaked. She sat up and cleared her throat as Asami laughed. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. “God, I’m sore.”

“I would be, too, if I’d slept for 30 hours straight.”

“What?” Korra glanced around the room for her phone. It was back on her desk, plugged up in its place so she had to get out of bed to turn off the alarm. “What day is it?”

“Sunday,” Asami said, showing Korra the screen of her phone.

“Shit.” Korra stretched and yawned, then slid back down to her pillow. She held both arms up and open. “C’mere.”

Asami wrinkled her nose. “You reek.”

Korra pouted and gave her best puppy dog eyes.

“Unh-unh,” Asami said. She grabbed Korra’s hands and stood up, pulling Korra up with her. “Shower first. And maybe burn the sheets.”

“It’s not that bad,” Korra griped as she was propelled into the bathroom by a pair of hands in the middle of her back.

After peeing _for-ev-er_ and taking a long, hot shower, Korra returned to her room wrapped in a towel and was hit by a wall of rancid body odor. Thoroughly disgusted, she quickly donned underwear and clean shirt and shorts. She stripped the bed and put the sweaty linens into her laundry bag. She got the bleach spray from the bathroom and wiped down the mattress, sprayed her pillow with Lysol, put on fresh sheets, then grabbed the bottle of Febreze out of the closet and sprayed the entire carpet.

The water stopped running in the bathroom and someone knocked on the door. Korra tried to say, “come in”, but a fit of coughing overcame her. Asami ducked her head into the room, face freshly washed and hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her nose wrinkled as she tried not to inhale the barrage of chemicals.

“Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

Korra coughed in response.

Asami rolled her eyes and entered the room just long enough to take the bottle of Febreze out of Korra’s hand, place it on the desk, then grab Korra by the wrist and pull her through the bathroom into Asami’s room. Already dressed for bed, Asami turned on the desk lamp, walked across the room and turned off the overhead lights, then took Korra by the hand on the way back to bed.

Once Korra was on her back with Asami’s cheek resting against her collarbone, the pair quickly fell asleep.

***

What Korra hadn’t known when she’d fallen asleep that night was that was the last night she’d get to sleep with Asami before basketball season started. Mr. Sato had called Asami excited about something that Asami couldn’t tell her about but was so important that whatever time Asami spent outside of class was mostly spent with him.

They’d talked that Monday morning about the party, and the almost-sex, and what were they. Korra thought they were a couple, but Asami was hesitant. Not because she didn’t want to be with Korra, but because she didn’t have a lot of time with this Satomobile project. And they’d have even less when basketball season started.

And, Asami, as usual, was right. Midnight Madness was here, and the two of them hadn’t been alone together for more than dinner and a few makeout sessions. Asami did move in with Korra, sort of. Her roommate’s boyfriend’s roommate had gotten fed up with them fucking over _there_ all of the time, so they were now fucking in _Taub_ all of the time.

Lauren certainly wasn’t coming back, and Mako said the room would likely remain off the waitlist until the next semester as it’s an Honors College placement. Unfortunately, seeing her sort-of girlfriend naked sometimes and not having time for more than a hickey did more to strain their “relationship” than encourage it. Luckily, Bolin was always able to pull Korra out of her funk.

They’d made it past midterms. Korra had presented her coaches with her sign-off sheet of straight-As from her professors. Asami and Mr. Sato were almost ready to reveal their whatever. Midnight Madness had finally arrived, and as it fell on a Wednesday night (and a high number of students would probably end up missing class the next day) the University had decided to give the students a two-day holiday for so the professors could invest in “professional development”.

Korra checked the laces on her white-and-red midtops. All around her in the locker room were 11 matching outfits of white jerseys with red lettering. Even in the depths of the concrete tunnels they could hear the music and from the court thumping through the walls.

She stood up and checked her uniform in the mirrored vanity recessed next to her locker, paying special attention to her rear-end. Satisfied there wasn’t an unpleasant surprise, she cracked her neck and rolled back her shoulders with a sigh.

Her first Midnight Madness. She wasn’t nervous, really. Just impatient to start this next chapter of her life, this next step on the path to pediatric surgeon. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She focused on the anxiety in her chest, compressed in into a tiny ball, and exhaled it out of her. When she opened her eyes and met her blue gaze in the mirror, she was ready.

The team was announced one player at a time. She watched her teammates jog onto the court to the spot they’d practiced, wave to the crowd shrouded in darkness, maybe do a little dance, and line up out of the bright spotlight. Korra was fifth in line. She ran out to the spot, raised two fingers into the air, and – as if by magic – made direct eye contact with Asami in the crowd. She grinned as her girlfriend cheered with the crowd, sporting a white baby-tee with a red “23” across it under a black leather jacket.

As she headed to lineup next to her four teammates, an idea fixed itself in her mind. Before her good sense had a chance to kill the impulse, she grabbed a basketball from the cart on the sidelines, dribbled full speed down the court – and dunked.

The crowd erupted. Her teammates clapped her back and shoulders and rubbed her head. She saw Asami bouncing on her toes and screaming, hands cupping her wine-colored lips.

The rest of the event went quickly. Their head coach, a bean pole of a White man named Dana Dash, hyped up the crowd and told the students, alumni and fans about the upcoming season. While he spoke, they went through the rehearsed set of drills – ball handling, shooting, and ending with five-man weave.

After the show, the team came back out on the court to sit at the tables the crew had set up for autographs. She talked to all the little girls and boys as long as they liked, signed t-shirts and basketballs, took selfies. When Asami appeared in front of her and asked if she would sign her shirt, Korra felt her face flush. Korra signed the white t-shirt on the back of Asami’s shoulder where she’d shrugged down one side of her jacket. When she finished, Asami thanked her with a wink, and sauntered off toward the exit.

Only one little girl asked if Asami was her girlfriend. The little girl’s mother immediately shushed her and said that was rude.

Nearly two hours later, Korra stepped out of the back of the basketball arena and climbed up the narrow stairs to street level. As she looked through the crisscrossed railings, she saw a svelte figure leaning against a car she’d only seen once – and mostly its taillights.

Asami Sato had three cars she and her father agree were actually “hers”. A red 2006 Toyota Camry XLE (with a v6) she drove most days; a burgundy Satomobile she’d built by herself when she was 14 and never drove on campus; and a black with red detail 2008 Black edition Nissan GT-R she drove in every street race – with a few modifications.

Korra whistled as she approached them.

“Is that for me? Or the car?” Asami smirked, arms folded.

“Both.” Korra grinned, pulling Asami against her by the hi ps.

“Good answer,” Asami murmured against her lips.

Several kisses later and they were shooting down I-45 toward the beach, the windows down and the music blasting. Asami tended to listen to entire albums on repeat, and her mood that night was Lenny Kravitz’s “5” album. They couldn’t hear each other over the wind and noise, and Asami was serious about driving over 70 mph, so Korra leaned her head back and enjoyed the cooler breeze and the sense of freedom.

The highway arched high over Galveston Bay. It never ceased to amaze Korra that the water could reach that high. She could still make out the rippling water in the distance, even under the dim light of an overcast, waning crescent moon. She stretched her fingers to feel the rush of air between them, imagining she could feel the water calling her.

The freeway descended into Broadway Avenue and they slowed. The air was damp and salty, and Korra inhaled deeply. Asami turned down the music, the lack of sound and rushing wind leaving an odd emptiness around them.

“I thought it would be cooler,” Asami remarked, her voice quiet as the coasted along the length of the island.

“Mmm,” Korra agreed. “It’s still nice, though.”

“Yeah.” Asami smiled over at Korra.

It was nearly four in the morning. The sky would begin to lighten in an hour or so. The streets were quiet, nearly empty. They followed the road until they reached their destination: Stewart Beach. Asami had assured Korra that she didn’t mind cleaning sand out of her car if that’s what Korra wanted. Asami wanted this weekend to be about Korra – about _them_. She’d clean half of the Mojave out of the engine of her beautiful racing car if it meant bringing a smile to Korra’s beautiful face.

They parked at the last line of wooden posts, assuming that was a safe distance from the water. A steady wind blew across them, sending swirls of sand into their mouths. Asami pulled a bag and a cooler out of her trunk. Korra picked up the cooler and Asami followed her across the shifting sand toward the guard shack standing grey and lonely above the rippling coastline.

Asami climbed up the ladder first, then lifted the cooler in from Korra’s upraised arms. Korra scrambled up after her. After a gritty kiss, Asami pulled two bottles of water out of the cooler and they both rinsed their mouths and faces. She pulled two blankets out of the bag, folding one so they could sit on it on top of the sandy wooden floor of the lifeguard shack, their backs against the three feet of wood that protected them from the wind where they sheltered in the lee of the entrance. The second one they wrapped around themselves, huddled together in the mild, windy night under the crescent moon.

This was her spot, where Korra went when she needed to clear her head. She’d discovered it after getting into an argument with her father and storming out of the house one afternoon her junior year. She’d just gotten on the highway and let her anger direct her. She’d realized she was on her way to Galveston when she’d started climbing up the steep bridge. She’d also realized, by the time she’d reached Broadway, that she had no money and not enough gas to get back home.

Stuck anyway, she decided to make the most of it and see the beach. There had been a full moon that night, and guard shack glowed as white as the sand against the greyish-black sky. After sitting in the shack for a while, just listening to the waves and wind, she’d calmed down enough to call her parents. They were upset when they arrived, but more relieved that she was okay.

She’d flown off the handle a few times after that, but she always ended up in the same little shack. Her parents still worried, but they’d learned she needed time to work through things on her own.

Korra felt the tension of the past nine weeks ease out of her shoulders and back. She smiled and hummed in contentment as Asami kissed her neck. Being there under the night sky with Asami next to her was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Sleep overcame them and Korra slipped into a dream. She was on a beach, standing at the edge of the water. She could feel the water surging toward her, slowing, flowing away. With each repetition she began to understand the water, speak its language, command it. She moved her feet and hands and the water obeyed, parting the water before her. There was something calling her, something below the surface that wanted to be found. Needed to be found. Needed her to find it.

She continued to command the water, walking further and further into the depths of the Gulf. The moon’s light should have been too dim to reach these depths, but the light was growing brighter the closer she drew to the thing – the One – who needed her.

Some time later, she stood before Her. She was bright, so bright She should have blinded Korra, but Korra could see _with_ Her light.

Korra commanded the water to freeze, and it crackled into a dome against the pressure of the water surrounding them. With one hand she reached for the light, but instead of touching it her hand passed through it. She pulled her hand back out and examined her fingers front and back. Satisfied no harm had come to her, she stepped into the light.

And remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the longer chapter. I will be on vacation for the next prompt. I shall return with "Sea" and we'll "see" what our characters are up to in this weird, long, rambling fic.


	8. Sea

_She’d warned Ren. He’d meditated through 10,000 years of Avatars to talk to her and the one fucking thing Korra had warned him not to do, he did. Now, she was watching through Ren’s physical eyes as Vaatu aimed his purple beam of destruction directly at them._

_Korra took over. She had to. They were in the Avatar state. If they died, it ended. And Vaatu had to be defeated. Humanity couldn’t survive 10,000 years of chaos._

_But Ren’s body had already taken on too much damage. He was never as physically strong as she was at his age. He was so young; only 16._

_Vaatu laughed. He could feel them losing control of the spirit energy. “And now your era ends, Raa-va! A new reign of eternal darkness begins!”_

_“NO!!!” Korra screamed as the light shot through Avatar Ren’s body and into the Tree of Time behind them. The blast didn’t rip past lives from the Avatar as UnaVaatu had done to her. It blasted them apart, scattering their energies into the void._

_The force of the blast pummeled her into the Tree of Time. The surge of dark energy rippled through the tree, every leaf and limb glowing with power. A crazy thought crossed the mind of what was left of Korra, and she stepped into the energy._

_She could defeat Vaatu. She saw that now. But, it would cost them. Dearly._

_Asami’s hand clasped her shoulder. “As long as we stick together, we’ll be able to overcome anything.”_

_Korra glanced around her within the Tree. Mako, Bolin, her parents, Hiroshi, Tenzin, Jinora, Opal. The memories of her family and friends gathered around her, giving her their energy and support. She understood what they were sacrificing. If she failed, they would cease to exist – in all times. _

_She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t fail._

_Korra couldn’t destroy Vaatu in her state. Ren’s foolishness had made the spirit too powerful. She would have to imprison him, as Avatar Wan had 20,000 years ago. Gathering their energy and the energy Vaatu had infused into the tree, she caught his tail and began pulling him into the Tree of Time._

_Many hands and elements grabbed him by his tendrils. His eye blasted a few of them, but another memory of that person materialized to take the previous version’s place. They dragged Vaatu further and further into the hollow of the twisted Tree, the dark spirit screaming and fighting the entire way._

_Just as Korra had trapped him within four elements and began forming his prison, Vaatu turned his eye to the floor of hollow and focused all of his rage into the roots of the Tree._

_Korra’s eyes widened in horror. Vaatu was going to destroy their entire world. And there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t stop him. But she could save the people she loved._

***

The light faded and Korra blinked, disoriented. When water suddenly filled her shoes, she realized she was standing on the beach instead of wrapped up in the lifeguard shack with Asami.

_Asami_. An old pain shot through her chest. _Why does she love me when all I do is hurt her?_ Korra smiled sadly as she squelched her toes in her wet socks and sneakers. She knew exactly what Asami would say to such thoughts, what she’d said through every trial they’d faced. Korra was grateful to Asami – to _all_ of them -- but the guilt weighed heavy on her heart.

Korra pulled at the synthetic cloth of the pants covering her legs, just as she directed the water to part around her wet feet. It was odd. She should feel out of place, but this felt no different than when she’d first connected with her past lives. She was a part of this world, but she wasn’t.

She huffed and ran her hands through her short hair. The wind gusted off the sea and she smiled as she inhaled the salt water. They called it the Gulf of Mexico, now. She tried to align her mental maps, but it was impossible after what Vaatu did.

Without the Tree of Time to connect them, the spirit and physical worlds had spun apart. The portals had shifted out of alignment and bending ceased to exist. Without bending, humans very nearly went extinct. In the 10,000 years since she’d been Avatar, the world had grown dependent upon benders in nearly every industry. Civilization collapsed.

Humans subsisted in small clusters where they could. Earthquakes, volcanoes and meteor showers reshaped the surface of the planet. And time marched on without them.

_Until now_. Korra frowned. _That meant-_

“ _Yes_ ,” Raava spoke, her voice and warmth bringing tears of joy to Korra’s eyes. “ _I fear Vaatu has grown strong enough to rise again_.”

“Raava,” Korra whispered, smiling at the waves under the crescent moon. “You’re alive.”

“ _Thanks to you, Avatar Korra_.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Korra muttered. “The worlds are disconnected and out of balance, Vaatu is loose again, and we’re the only ones who know the world’s in danger.”

“ _You can help the others remember_.”

“How?” Korra asked.

" _You will find a way_.”

“Some things never change.” Korra rolled her eyes. New age, same spirit-speak. “In the meantime, I need to start training. I have a feeling I’ll need my bending when the time comes.”

“ _As you say, this is a new age. There may be other ways to fight Vaatu than bending_.”

“Everything in this world runs on _electricity_. We know how useful _that_ is for fighting spirits.” Korra shifted her feet and pulled the water out of her shoes with a flick of her wrist, sending the thread of silver back into the sea with a flourish. She looked longingly out over the waves, then turned to walk back over the sand to the lifeguard shack.

Raava had heard her but didn’t fully agree. So, the spirit had said nothing and went back to “sleep”. Inside the lifeguard shack, Asami was also asleep. She was curled into a cute little ball, the blanket wrapped tight around her body. Korra kneeled next to her and risked lifting the blanket to peek at her sleeping beauty.

Asami’s pale nose scrunched, and she tilted her head to squint up at Korra. “Hmm?”

“You’re beautiful,” Korra murmured.

“Mmm,” Asami hummed, smiling. “You’re beautiful.”

Korra settled down next to Asami, pulling the slender woman close against her chest. She resisted the urge to cup Asami’s breast. Not an easy task. She may be dating Asami as a nervous teenager in this time, but she’d _known_ Asami as her _wife_.

Instead, Korra inhaled sea air, jasmine and metal, and she laid there next to the woman she loved until the sky turned rosy orange, her mind churning with thoughts about the coming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I've lost my flow. I thought outlines were supposed to prevent these things from happening. >(


	9. Tinkering

The morning sky over the Gulf of Mexico was overcast. Low, thick clouds obscured most of the sun. Its bright yellow light spread iridescent rays above the clouds and burned orange below them. Both clouds and water were soaked in merlot, and the sky between the sun and the horizon drenched in blood red.

“Red in the morning, sailors’ warning,” Asami said.

Korra hummed in agreement, distracted by the way the sun illuminated Asami’s features. Her skin glowed golden peach, eyes shone pale spring green. A lock of black blew across her cheek, a few strands sticking to deep red lips.

They were sitting on the patio of a taco stand on Stewart Beach. They’d seen people forming a line as they packed the blankets in the trunk of the Nissan. The Gulf in October was still warmer than the Pacific in June, but the crowds of vacationing tourists had left for the year. When locals stood in line for food, it usually meant the food was really, really good.

The tacos were _delicious_. Asami and Korra had split six tacos in three varieties: potato and egg, chorizo and egg, and fried oyster and avocado. Korra was still a little miffed that Asami had snatched the last half of the oyster tacos, but Asami looked _so beautiful_ in the morning light. As much as Korra hated mornings, she would gladly wake up this early every day to see Asami in the sunrise.

“It’s beautiful,” Asami said, staring out over the water.

“It is,” Korra said, staring at Asami.

Asami glanced out of the corner of her eye, then turned her head toward Korra. By her smile, she knew Korra was more interested in her than the sky. With a blink, Asami’s smile faltered, and her eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Korra asked.

“Nothing,” Asami said, shaking her head. “I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu.”

A memory from another lifetime flashed before Korra’s eyes. The two of them, in the infancy of their relationship, sitting on a gazebo and watching the sunset. She wondered where Air Temple was in these modern times. She realized she didn’t know exactly how many years had passed since the Tree of Time was destroyed.

“Korra?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” Korra smiled at Asami and shrugged.

Asami turned on the bar stool so her entire body faced Korra. “You’ve been really quiet since last night.”

Korra shrugged again. “A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“You can always talk to me, Korra,” Asami said, placing a soft but firm hand on Korra’s. “About anything.”

Korra stared into Asami’s eyes. She knew she had to tell Asami the truth, but part of her didn’t want to. Not yet. For now, Asami didn’t have to carry the burden of saving the world, or remember the moment her father betrayed, or when he was crushed in front of her. In this world, her father was a good man without any complicated moral or ethical issues. At least, as far Korra knew.

“I know,” Korra said softly, putting her free hand on top of Asami’s. “I will. I just need some time.”

Asami’s red lips frowned slightly, but she nodded. They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the world around them as they stared at their intertwined hands. The wind and the waves, the voices of other customers ordering and leaving, the occasional metallic clink of pulleys against flag poles.

“Have you been there? Since….”

Korra’s head jerked as she looked at Asami’s face. The older woman kept staring at their hands. “Kemah?”

Asami nodded, fingertips tracing the lines in Korra’s knuckles.

“No,” Korra said. “I heard they built a rollercoaster.”

AstroWorld closed when Korra was in the ninth grade. It made sense to build something closer to the fourth largest city in the nation than Dallas or San Antonio. Korra had considered going back, but from what she’d heard it was more of a mall than an amusement park. Shopping wasn’t her idea of entertainment.

“I went, earlier this summer,” Asami said. Korra had to lean closer to hear. “I was just driving, and I ended up there. It’s gone. The Kemah we knew was washed away by Ike. I prayed,” Asami chuckled. “I prayed to the kami that you hadn’t changed, that you were the same Korra – _my_ Korra.”

“And you were.” Asami looked up, green eyes meeting Korra’s blue. Worry wrinkled her forehead. “But I feel…. I feel like you’re slipping away.”

“What?” Korra shook her head. “No. I mean, I know we’ve been busy, but-”

“And basketball season just started and we’re going to see even less of each other,” Asami interrupted.

“You want me to quit?”

“No!” Asami heaved a sigh. “I just…. I really, _really_ like you, Korra. I don’t want to lose you. Again.”

Korra gently placed a hand on the back of Asami’s head, fingers sinking between silky strands as she guided their foreheads together. “I feel the same way,” Korra said softly. “And _more_. I’m not going _anywhere_. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be _your_ Korra. Okay?”

“Okay,” Asami whispered, nodding her head slightly against Korra’s.

They left the taco stand hand-in-hand, feet sinking as they crossed the sand to Asami’s car. They shook out as much sand as they could from their clothes and shoes before getting into the once-pristine vehicle. Korra clicked her seatbelt in place, then Asami pushed the button to start the car.

When the engine didn’t roar to life, Asami pushed it again. She checked that the car was in park, looked to be certain her foot was on the brake, then pushed it a third time. Silence was her only answer.

Korra raised an eyebrow as Asami unbuckled her seatbelt with an annoyed puff of air between her lips. “Need any help?”

“Don’t know yet,” Asami said, already halfway out of the car. “Sit tight.”

Korra watched Asami through the rear- and sideview mirrors as she approached the trunk. The lid lifted and Korra could no longer see Asami. She could hear Asami rummaging around it, a few thuds and clunks marking the engineering major’s progress.

Asami closed the trunk and returned to the driver’s side of the car. She opened the door to reveal a toolkit in one hand as she reached below the steering wheel to pop the hood of the car. Closing the driver’s side door, Asami walked around to the front of the car, set down her toolkit, fiddled with something under the edge of the hood, then lifted it into the air and set to work.

Curious about what Asami was doing, Korra had a brilliant idea. She placed her palm on the console, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. After a few moments, sparks of earth sprang to life as Asami’s tools tapped against them. Korra grinned to herself, eyes still closed, as she “watched” Asami ratcheting a bolt on a cylinder. The cylinder had several thin metal wires attached to it and it was filled with sand.

On the side of the cylinder was another cylinder with metal wires. And a metallic liquid she knew all too well slowly oozing toward the wires.

_That’s not sand!_ Korra had unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door before she finished her thought. Asami yelped in protest as Korra caught her by the waist and half-dragged her toward the water. Korra felt the air shift behind them, and as they reached the water, she called the elements to shield them from the shrapnel of the blast.

Although Korra knew how to bend by instinct, her body had never trained as a bender. Her reaction was slow and her movements jerky. She reduced the impact of the concussion wave, but it still sent them flying into the air before plummeting into the silty waters of the Gulf of Mexico.


	10. Scars

Korra turned her head against the pillow to see the clock on the wall, twiddling her thumbs on her stomach. She adjusted her wrist as the edge of the plastic armband pricked her through her shirt. One hour and 13 minutes had passed since the two police officers had left the room. She rolled her eyes at the clock and returned to glaring at the Columbia blue back of the uniformed officer standing in front of the bulletproof glass door of her jail cell.

Actually, it was a room in the emergency department of the hospital. A room with a see-through door that locked from the outside. A room which the doctors and nurses and police officers had “ordered” her not to leave. All because she and Asami had escaped being blown up in Asami’s car with barely a scratch and couldn’t answer their questions.

The defense mechanism of the Avatar state had its pros and cons, the biggest pro being it saves an Avatar’s ass when they’re unconscious in perilous situations. Two of the most annoying cons were one, it didn’t always kick in when it should, and two, the Avatar rarely remembered what happened while they were in the Avatar state. Because they were unconscious.

Hence, why Korra came to with Asami beside her on the rocks of some sort of pier without any idea how they’d gotten there. Somehow, they’d managed to avoid getting blown up or drowning or ripped through with shrapnel. In fact, the only scars they had were a few cuts on their arms and hands from the rocks.

She didn’t know how long they’d been unconscious, but it was long enough for a helicopter to be deployed and spot them lying on the rocks. Asami had regained consciousness just as a jeep came bouncing over the sand with first responders. When she asked what had happened to her car, that led to questions which led to both women being strapped to plastic boards and carefully rushed to the nearest hospital.

Ten minutes later and they were met by a team of people in scrubs and hurried into separate rooms while they inserted needles and asked the same questions over and over and over. Korra had lights pointed at her eyes and pens poked into the bottom of her feet and an x-ray. They couldn’t do the MRI because of the pins still in her bones from the car accident, but they did the CT scan of her head and neck.

They were fine. There was a crater in the sand and pieces of flying metal had landed in the parking of the McDonald’s, but they were fine. They were no longer worried about her going into shock, because the IV bag of saline had been stopped and disconnected, and no one had checked on her in nearly two hours.

Korra had a bad feeling when the police officers entered the room. They also asked her the same questions _repeatedly_ and were never satisfied with her answers. Korra _couldn’t_ tell them how they’d escaped even if she wanted to, because she couldn’t remember. Now they were trapped in separate rooms with water-logged cellphones and ignored requests to contact their parents.

She sighed and frowned at her yellow-socked feet. Her shoes were under the sink in the room, still wet with salt water. She couldn’t risk bending herself dry, but she did use airbending to keep herself warm as she waited.

Movement caught her eye. Someone in a black uniform was walking toward them. A tall someone with steel-gray hair and an intense green glare.

Korra sat up in the bed, palms flat on the sheets beside her. None other than Lin Beifong was coming toward her cell, scowl fixed and eyes narrowed, as usual. Korra almost grinned, but remembered that Lin wouldn’t remember her, so her almost-grin contorted into what she hoped was a neutral expression of interest.

The raised eyebrow Lin shot at her said it wasn’t.

Something about the formidable woman seemed off to Korra. When Lin turned her head to address the police officer, Korra realized Lin’s cheek was no longer streaked with two parallel scars. It was odd to see her without them, and it made Korra a little sad. It was another reminder that the world she’d fought and died for no longer existed.

Lin unbolted the latch and slid the door open with one hand while holding the other hand behind her back. She stepped into the room and nodded to the officer, who slid the door closed behind her and bolted it back. Lin Beifong stood with her feet apart, back ramrod straight, staring down her nose at Korra like something she’d prefer not to step in.

Korra raised an eyebrow and smirked. Scar or no, Beifong was still Beifong.

“Korra Waters?”

Korra nodded.

“I’m Chief Lin Beifong, Federal Protective Service, Homeland Security,” Beifong rattled off. “It’s my understanding you witnessed an explosion.”

“Yeah,” Korra said.

They stared at each other for several seconds before Beifong narrowed her eyes and said: “What did you see?”

_That_ question again. Korra had seen the canister of explosive powder and the liquid metal with _metalbending_. She knew if she told anyone that they’d think the explosion knocked something loose in her head. Instead, Korra shrugged. “The car blew up.”

“Listen, kid.” Beifong took a step toward the bed. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but if I don’t get a straight answer out of you, I will detain you in a federal prison faster than you can blink.”

“You can’t do that!”

Beifong smirked. “Homeland. Security. Exploding cars are usually seen as terrorist attacks. Either you’re an incredibly lucky bystander, or you’re the terrorist. Which is it?”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Korra huffed.

“Then answer. The question.”

“I’ve already ‘answered the question’,” Korra retorted. She gestured toward the glass door. “Like I told them, we were leaving, the car wouldn’t start, Asami tried to fix it, we ran, and then we woke up on some rocks.”

“Asami Sato?” Beifong waited for Korra to nod a confirmation. “Did you see what she did?”

“No,” Korra said, shaking her head. Her hair was so grimy it barely moved. “I was sitting inside the car.”

“Why did you run?”

“There was a _bomb_?”

“Who found the bomb?”

Korra hesitated. She’d discovered the bomb, but if she was sitting inside of the car there was no way she could’ve seen it with her eyes. Even without her seismic sense, Korra had the distinct feeling the Chief could feel her heart beating faster. “I guess … Asami?”

“You ‘guess’?”

“I was thrown into the air and woke up half a mile away,” Korra said. “Excuse me for not remembering exact details. I was more concerned with trying to stay _alive_.”

“You succeeded,” Beifong quipped. “How _did_ you manage that? There isn’t a scratch on either one of you.”

Korra shrugged. She dropped her gaze to the white and gray linoleum tiled floor. She drew back a little as Chief Beifong shoved a phone or camera in her face.

Korra watched the video of her bending. It looked like some weird blend of dance and martial arts. She knew she’d already gathered some wind around them, though wind isn’t visible on the camera. The water behind her looked like it was swelling slightly unnaturally. She winced as a _split second_ before her hands were set a wall of sand knocked them both off their feet.

She was relieved to see the sand obscured any other bending before the video ended. She needed more time to figure things out before she had to explain glowing white eyes and floating in the air. If the X-Men had taught her anything, it’s that being a human being with super powers was generally frightening to most people. And she had no intention of becoming a tool of any military.

Korra looked up from the screen, a neutral expression on her face, to meet Beifong’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Look, kid,” Lin sighed and tapped the device. “I’ll level with ya. I’m not interested in investigating a car bomb. I could’ve handed this job to any of my officers. I came here _personally_ because of what I saw in that video; what I saw you _do_ in that video.”

The Chief showed Korra the screen again, only this time the video was paused, and the image enlarged. The quality was even worse magnified, but what it revealed dropped Korra’s heart into her stomach. Her hands may not have been set in time, but she’d had enough power to bring two whorls of water around her and Asami before the wind knocked them back into the Gulf. In that instant, two whorls of water leapt three-feet in the air and flew across the sand from the _receding_ waves more than five feet behind them.

“Well?”

Korra met the green eyes of her old friend and shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I wish I could, but … I can’t.”

Beifong frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, then pressed her lips together and sighed. She pocketed the video player, pulled a wallet out of the leg pocket of her black cargo pants, and slipped a business card out of the leather. She handed it to Korra.

“If you change your mind,” Beifong said, “Call me. Anytime.” She stepped back and tipped her head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll take you two back to campus.”

Thirty minutes later, Korra and Asami were in the backseat of an all-black Ford Expedition with tinted windows. They each sat next to the window. Beifong glanced back at them regularly in the rearview mirror. Korra stole glances at Asami, but she just stared out of the window with her arms folded across her torso.

Korra was surprised when Beifong exited the Beltway instead of continuing on I-45 North. Her surprise turned to suspicion, which was confirmed when they exited Beltway 8. Korra sank into her seat as they made their way home to Tonraq and Senna Waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to meee!!!!
> 
> Saturday was my birthday, and that has put me waaaaaaayyyyy behind. And I was already behind. :'(


	11. Breaking the Law

“You said you were taking us back to campus,” Korra said as the black Expedition turned into her neighborhood.

“I lied,” Chief Beifong said. “Sue me.”

Korra glared at the rearview mirror, but Beifong didn’t look up to see it as she parked the massive vehicle in front of the Waters’ home. Instead, the gray-haired woman got out of the vehicle and opened Asami’s door. Without a word, Asami calmly unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the SUV. Even without makeup and covered in dried saltwater and sand, Asami looked radiant in the sunlight.

Asami walked around the front of the vehicle, elbows up as she twisted her black hair into a sort of bun. Korra was so distracted that she jumped when Beifong opened the door.

“Out,” Beifong ordered with a jerk of her chin.

Korra huffed as she unbuckled and hopped out of the vehicle. She reached for her keys – still safely slung around her neck – as she walked to the front door. She stepped into the recessed entry and unlocked deadbolt and doorknob. As Korra opened the door and stepped in, she yelled, “Mom?”

Muffled words came from the back of the house. Korra didn’t understand them, but she could guess they were “I’m here” and her Mom was in the bedroom that had been converted into an office. Korra walked further into the hallway, stopping just past the open archway to the living room. “You can wait here. I’ll get Mom.”

Without waiting for a response, Korra turned and continued through the house to her mother. As she guessed, her mother was sitting in front of her computer with her reading glasses and staring at the screen.

“Mom?”

“Hello, Sweetheart!” Senna quickly stood up from her seat and crossed the room to wrap her daughter in a tight hug. “We weren’t expecting you! I thought you were spending the weekend with Asami?”

“I, we were, but,” Korra paused as she stepped back from her Mom’s hug, the “we” registering in her brain. “Dad’s home?”

“He will be. He should be in tomorrow. They shut down the wells in the Gulf. They’re not sure where that system is headed off the coast of Mexico.”

“I thought it was just a depression?”

“After last year, no one’s taking any chances.” Senna brushed Korra’s hair off her gritty forehead and frowned. “Where have you been?”

“About that,” Korra said quietly, glancing behind her. She closed the door, turning the handle so it wouldn’t click. “Don’t panic, but something happened to Asami’s car-”

“OhmyGod,” Senna gasped, hands clasped to her mouth.

“She’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fine,” Korra said. “But the police brought us here.”

“The police?” Senna hands went to Korra’s cheeks, scanning her face and head. “What happened?”

“Mom.” Korra pried her mother’s hands off her face. “We’re fine. Asami’s car was trashed and our cellphones got wet.”

“Wet? Korra-“

“Mom. _Mom_.” Korra placed her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders. “We’re fine. The police officer is here. She’s in the living room.”

“Oh! Oh, of course,” Senna said. She took off her glasses and laid them on the desk, then smoothed out her t-shirt over her jeans. “What’s her name?”

“Chief Lin Beifong.”

Senna froze, staring into Korra’s matching blue eyes. “Chief Lin Beifong.”

“Ye-es?”

“I see.” Senna straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. In. Out. “Okay.”

Korra followed her mother out of the office and back through the house to the living room. When they arrived, Asami was seated on the edge of the piano bench and Chief Beifong was standing by the grandfather clock with her arms folded.

“Hello, Asami Dear. How are you?” Senna hugged Asami tightly, which finally cracked a smile on Asami’s face. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m fine,” Asami assured. “Thanks to Korra.”

“What happened?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Beifong quipped. She watched as Senna slowly stood and turned to face the taller woman.

“Lin.”

“Senna.”

Korra attempted to exchange glances with Asami, but her green eyes were focused on the two older women.

“Why are you here?”

“You’re welcome,” Lin deadpanned.

“Thank you for bringing the girls home,” Senna said through a forced smile. “I know you’re very busy. We won’t keep you any longer.”

“Fine,” Lin said, though her combat boot didn’t move a millimeter. “Where’s Katara?”

“I don’t know.”

Now Korra was thoroughly confused. She’d had a physical with Dr. Katara earlier that summer to be cleared to play for the team. The elderly Inupiat couldn’t be hard for Homeland Security to find. Especially for Chief Lin Beifong.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Beifong smirked.

“Leave Korra out of this,” Senna snarled.

“She put _herself_ in this when she didn’t answer my questions at the hospital.”

“Only _you_ would think it _appropriate_ to interrogate a _child_ in the hospital!”

“They’re _adults_ , Senna,” Lin said, eyes narrowed. “And right now, they’re suspected terrorists.”

“Suspected-! How _dare_ you?!”

“Trespassing.” Beifong lifted a long finger, counting. “Loitering. Obstruction of a federal criminal investigation. Use of weapons of mass destruction.”

“Weapons of mass destruction?!!”

“What do you call a car bomb?” Lin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mouth open and eyes wide, Senna turned to Korra.

Korra shrugged, one hand rubbing the back of her own neck. “Yeah. That … that happened. But we didn’t put the bomb in Asami’s car!”

“Neither one of us is suicidal,” Asami added, giving Beifong a pointed look.

Senna was once again checking Korra for cuts and bruises. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

“Because I didn’t want you to panic,” Korra huffed as her mother raised her shirt to see her stomach. “Like you are now. _Mom_.”

Senna let Korra jerk her shirt back down and rushed to Asami, who allowed Senna to examine her with an amused smile. “What happened?”

A beep came from Chief Beifong’s hip. She frowned as she unhooked the phone from her belt clip. “Beifong.” Her frown deepened, and her green eyes were dark. “On my way.”

“This investigation is ongoing,” Beifong put the phone back on her hip, already on the move. “When I return, I expect _answers_. From _all_ of you.” With that, she flung open the front door, shoved the storm door open, and stomped to the Expedition without bothering to see if either door closed behind her.

“That _woman_ ,” Senna snapped as she nearly slammed the door.

“Mom. What was all that about? How do you know her? What happened to Dr. Katara?”

Senna took a deep breath and turned to her daughter. “Nothing you need to worry about, Sweetheart.”

“Are you kidding me?! Asami’s car _blew_ _up_!” Korra waved at the door. “We were interrogated by Homeland Security. Why would you know someone in _Homeland_ _Security_?”

“Korra,” Senna warned. “Let it go. Your father and I will handle it.”

“But-”

“Drop it, Korra!”

“Grrrrr!” Korra growled, throwing her hands up in the air before storming to her bedroom. She shoved open the door and went straight to her dresser to pull out underwear, shorts, and a clean t-shirt. Kicking the last drawer closed, she stomped into the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, and turned on the water.

Hearing and feeling the water rushing out of the spout calmed her a bit. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and sighed, clothes in her lap. Korra stared at the water rushing out of the silvery metal. As the Avatar, her life had always been like the water pouring from that spout. Either nothing was happening, or everything was happening at once.

“It’s never fucking easy,” Korra whispered.

_“If it were, the world would not need the Avatar,”_ Raava said.

As annoyed as she was with the spirit’s wisdom, she couldn’t help the pride that crept in her chest and eased the angry tightness in it. Whatever was going on with Chief Beifong was not her priority. Her priority was figuring out how to stop Vaatu from destroying the world – again – before Harmonic Convergence. Which meant finding out when—

_“Eight months from now.”_

“Eight? But winter is in two months.”

_“Without the Tree of Time, the hemispheres now have opposite seasons. Harmonic Convergence will align with the winter solstice in the South Pole.”_

“Which will be the summer solstice here in the northern hemisphere,” Korra finished. She sighed. “At least that gives us a little time.”

_“Yes. Use it wisely. Remember, you cannot do this alone.”_

Korra pouted and glared at the water as she felt Raava return to sleep. She’d smooth things over with her mother, just not tonight. She hated being treated like a baby – even more so now that she’d regained her memory.

_Then again_ , Korra thought. She hadn’t been able to protect them from that explosion without going into the Avatar state. She wasn’t immortal, and the world didn’t have time for another Avatar to come of age while Vaatu spread chaos.

With a few flicks of her hand, she adjusted the water temperature and switched the flow to the showerhead. She excused it as practice – she needed to start training as soon as possible.

Out of the shower and dressed, short hair still damp, Korra stepped into her bedroom to find Asami perched on the side of the bed, brushing her hair. She was also freshly showered and dressed in Korra’s t-shirt and shorts.

“I hope you don’t mind. Your mom – Senna – gave me these.” Asami smiled with her head tipped sideways as she continued to brush.

“Uh, no. Not all. Mi casa es su casa.” Korra glanced at the digital clock with blue digits on her nightstand. “It’s only 8:34?”

“I’m surprised we haven’t already crashed,” Asami sighed. She stood up and walked over to Korra’s dresser to replace the brush, where the Inuit’s hair styling tools generally resided. “Senna said she’d let us sleep in tomorrow. It’s been a _very_ long day.”

Korra nodded, suddenly very self-conscious. Asami hadn’t been in her bedroom since they were little kids, and she’d never changed the décor. Three blue walls with one wallpapered in penguins, seals and polar bears; twin-sized bed with white and blue sheets; short blue curtains with white trim over the long sliding window.

“I always liked this wallpaper,” Asami said. Korra turned to see her smiling at the cartoon animals with knit caps and scarves building snowmen and sledding.

“Yeah, me, too,” Korra said, her arm on the back of her neck.

Asami turned to face her. They stared at each other. Korra cleared her throat.

“I-is everything … okay?” Korra asked.

“What do you mean?”

“This is the first time you’ve talked to me since we woke up on the pier,” Korra said. She looked down at the beige carpet, scrunching her toes in the short fibers. “You wouldn’t even look at me on the way here.”

Korra looked up at the click of the bedroom door closing. She watched as Asami slid her desk chair in front of the door. Heart pounding in her chest, she stood still as Asami slowly approached her. She recognized the look in Asami’s eyes, the way the green deepened under lowered black eyelashes.

“I wasn’t mad at you,” Asami murmured. She thumbed Korra’s cheek, then slid her fingers around to the short, fine hairs at the nape of Korra’s neck. “On the contrary. You saved my life. And the way you picked me up with _one_ _arm_ ….”

Asami brushed her lips across Korra’s. Her lips were soft and slippery and smelled of cocoa butter. Her fingers turned, twisted and gently fisted Korra’s hair.

Korra inhaled and shakily exhaled against Asami’s smooth cheek. After decades of physical fights and close calls, she’d grown accustomed to Asami’s adrenaline-fueled spikes in libido. There were many times she’d been pulled into a broom closet or snuck off into a thick copse of trees. She knew what her wife wanted, and she was only too willing to provide.

She slid her hands from Asami’s waist to butt, paused a moment to squeeze the supple flesh, then dipped a little as she grasped firm hamstrings. Asami hopped a little and her legs were wrapped around Korra’s waist, never breaking the kiss as the younger woman carried them the four steps to the bed. She gently laid Asami down, rocking with Asami as she adjusted to keep from pulling her long hair.

She protested with a muffled whimper when Asami’s hand pushed into her shoulders. Korra looked down into Asami’s bright green eyes, the ceiling fan light washing out the gold around the irises. “Turn off the light?”

“I want to see you,” Korra whispered with a pout.

“Lamp?” Asami suggested, indicating the crystal lamp on Korra’s nightstand.

Korra kissed her, hard and quick, then reached over to the power cord and rotated the plastic gear. A warm, yellow light clicked on, and she hopped off the bed. She smiled as Asami giggled behind her, watching the younger woman rush to turn of the light and turn on the ceiling fan. It was _definitely_ about to get hot in there.

The warm light refracted through the crystal, painting the room with seemingly random shapes of shadow and light. Korra saw Asami had kicked the blanket and sheets down against the wooden footboard of the bed. Green eyes sparkled as she smiled and curled her finger, beckoning Korra back to bed.

She approached slowly, taking in the woman on top of her fitted sheet. She always found it sexy when Asami wore her clothes. Her shorts were always shorter and the t-shirts bigger, so it looked like Asami had nothing on under the loose shirt. Asami’s nipples poking through the white cotton told Korra that she at least wasn’t wearing a bra.

“You know,” Korra murmured, settling her hands besides Asami’s rib cage, one knee in between long legs close enough to feel the waves of heat emanating from where they joined. “I’ve never done this when my parents were _home_.”

“I’ve never been caught yet,” Asami replied. Korra raised an eyebrow and Asami glared at her. “ _That_ does not count.”

Korra chuckled, still smiling as she lowered her lips to Asami’s. Their lips shifted smoothly, familiar with the most sensitive parts of each other’s mouth. Hands pulled up the hem of her shirt, pressed into the muscles in her lower back. Fingers traveled up her spine and then blunt nails dragged down the sides of it.

Korra shivered, her upper body supported by one arm as the other slipped under Asami’s t-shirt and sought the curve of breast underneath it. Once her fingers had found their prize, she squeezed – firm, but gentle – until Asami arched her back off the bed. She massaged the warm flesh, felt the areola pucker as the nipples stiffened. She pinched it between forefinger and thumb with a slight tug and her wife’s back arched higher, accompanied by a breathy moan.

A leg muscle twitched, followed by a shift of a heel. Korra grinned as Asami easily flipped them over in the bed, fully expecting her to take charge. Asami was _always_ aggressive during post-battle sex and _insisted_ she please Korra first.

Asami straddled both of her thighs and ran smooth hands up her defined stomach until her shirt was bunched beneath her breasts. Korra inhaled sharply as nails trailed down the side of her ticklish ribs. Asami repeated the process, hands trailing a little higher, brushing against the underside of spandex-bound breasts, warmth grinding against her thighs.

The shirt was pushed over her breasts, then the band of her sports bra was pushed up to meet the t-shirt. Finally, cool air brushed across Korra’s nipples. She watched Asami study them through her lashes, enjoying the attention. Asami palmed them, testing their weight in her hands. She squeezed, rubbed, ghosted her palms in agonizingly soft circles across the very tip of her nipples.

Korra bit her lip, gasping as she shifted her hips with each variation. Her hands wanted to hold Asami, grasp the solid flesh, anchor herself in this sea of lust. But Asami kept repositioning as played, sitting back on Korra’s thighs as one hand trailed to the waistband of her shorts while the other pinched her nipple.

“Fuck,” Korra breathed, arching her back off the bed. As the cool air shifted under her back, she realized she was sweating. The throbbing ache between her legs was accompanied by a slick sensation creeping toward her butt.

Mindful of the proximity of elbows to the wall, Asami helped Korra out of her shirt and sports bra. Topless, Korra grinned as Asami shoved her back down on the bed and licked her lips.

Korra closed her eyes in bliss, a trembling breath escaping her. Soft lips enveloped one nipple, the tip of a warm tongue flicking and circling in delicate circles. A hand massaged her other breast, the fingers caressing around the exposed nipple. She slid her hand into Asami’s hair, fingers caressing the scalp, occasionally tugging at the roots. Her pussy pulsed as Asami hummed around her nipple.

“Asami,” she whispered, thrusting her hips into her wife.

Asami released her nipple with a soft pop, the wet warmth shocked by the chill of the air-conditioned breeze. “It wouldn’t be fair if I sucked one and not the other,” Asami whispered, her breath ghosting over Korra’s sternum as her mouth traveled to her destination.

Asami repeated her ministrations on Korra’s other breast, switching hands to keep the first breast stimulated as her tongue flicked and circled the nipple of the second. Soon Korra was writhing against her wife, hands grasping hair and sheet and flesh as she silently begged Asami to move that talented mouth down there.

A small tug and soft pop and Asami sat up, watching Korra’s chest heave with smug satisfaction. “There. Balanced.”

“A-sa- _mi_ ,” Korra pleaded, eyes burning into the woman’s above her.

Her wife swung one leg off of her. Korra quickly hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the shorts and underwear and scooted them off, tossing them off the bed. Asami didn’t straddle her again. Instead, she placed the tip of one finger in between Korra’s breasts and lightly trailed it down, down, over abdominal muscle and belly button and into soft, short curls.

The finger stopped right at the cliff’s edge, turned so the palm of Asami’s hand faced Korra, then the pad slipped into the wet heat and across Korra’s clit.

“Ooohhhhhh,” Korra groaned softly, legs spreading to give Asami greater access. She closed her eyes and forced herself to keep her hips still. She frowned when Asami’s finger moved to one side, then the other.

Korra opened her eyes, reached down and grabbed Asami’s wrist. She locked eyes with Asami as she guided the older woman’s finger, showing her the speed and pressure and direction she preferred. Asami was a quick learner, and Korra soon sank her head back into the pillow, eyes fluttering closed. She was _so_ _close_.

The hand was gone, and Korra pouted until her sex-addled brain realized what that meant. She opened her eyes and looked down just as a warm breath caressed her clit. Green eyes gazed up at her and soft lips parted as a firm tongue licked up.

Korra’s hips jerked of their own volition, a strangled gasp escaping her. She tried to keep looking into Asami’s eyes, knowing how much her wife loved to see her expression when she came, but it felt _so_ _good_. When the licks turned into circles one hand desperately grasped Asami’s hair. When the circles turned into sucks, both hands found Asami’s head as Korra’s body convulsed in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent scream.

She fell back on the bed, panting heavily, gasping as Asami continued to suck and lick her through the aftershocks. Korra looked down to see Asami gazing up at her, eyes dark and lashes low. She narrowed her eyes and sat up.

Grasping Asami by the chin, she guided the woman up to eye level. Their mouths met open, Korra moaning softly at the taste of herself on Asami’s lips. Asami pulled away, threw the t-shirt to the floor, stood up on the bed to step out of the shorts.

Naked, standing above her, Korra ran her hands up Asami’s thighs until her thumbs met in the wet heat of perfectly manicured pubic hair. A black landing strip of soft, trimmed hair led from hip bone to clit. Korra traced the outer labia with her thumbs, gliding across the bare skin until they dipped into the entrance to her wife’s pussy.

Asami trembled, and Korra swiftly guided her down onto her back. Strong fingers grabbed her wrist and forced her hand between long legs. Taking the hint, Korra abandoned all foreplay and gave Asami what she wanted.

Korra stroked the labia, teasing Asami’s entrance, occasionally grazing her clit with a finger. As she fondled Asami, she straddled one thigh and braced herself on her elbow as she positioned her pelvic bone against the back of her hand. Korra kissed both nipples, then kissed Asami’s lips just before she slid her middle finger into Asami’s hot, dripping pussy.

Asami sighed in relief, her hips rocking. Korra added her ring finger and they soon established a rhythm. Korra’s arm began to tremble, and she pulled away from the kiss to focus on maintaining their pace. It had been a long day, and she was beginning to feel it.

“Wait,” Asami whispered. “Wait, stop.”

Korra stopped mid-stroke, eyebrow raised. Asami patted her shoulder, and Korra reluctantly pulled her fingers out and rolled off Asami.

“On your back,” Asami whispered.

Visually, _this_ was one of Korra’s favorite positions. She licked her lips in anticipation as Asami straddled her hips. Korra put her hand palm up between them, watching intently as Asami hovered over her fingertips before sinking slowly down, down, until she was two knuckles deep and her pinky and index finger were tickling each ass cheek.

Asami started off rolling her hips, grinding until she built back up to where they’d left off. Her hair shifted over her shoulders, and she’d toss her head periodically to put it back in place. Her pale skin blushed all over, even in the lamplight. Her shadow writhed in time against the blue-painted wall.

“Ride me, baby,” Korra ordered. “I wanna see you bounce.”

Asami huffed a chuckle, eyes closed as she shifted her weight and began bouncing on Korra’s hand. Her pert breasts bounced as well, nipples hardening as they jiggled in the air. She began to pant, an occasional sigh of a whimper in between. Korra matched her tempo, one hand gripping a thigh as hips and fingers drove deep as possible into the wet pussy.

“Faster, baby.”

Asami complied, the speed also causing her to come down harder. The force sent vibrations through the back of Korra’s hand to her pubic bone to her still swollen clit. Korra hissed and bit back a moan, her bottom lip between her teeth. Asami’s green eyes smoldered, and Korra was certain this pace would leave bruises on both of them.

As she got closer to orgasm, Asami stopped bouncing her entire body and leaned forward, elbows locked, back arched, moved her ass up and down by popping her back. Asami bit her bottom lip, breathing hard through her nose as her thighs trembled. Asami’s eyes closed and her eyebrows knitted. Her legs shook even more, and she’d slowed her pace.

Korra knew what her wife needed. She was distracted, too worried about not screaming when she came to actually cum. She let go of Asami’s thigh and grasped the back of her neck. When Asami resisted, Korra gently stroked the soft skin.

“Bite my shoulder,” Korra whispered. Asami opened her eyes, confused. Korra tugged on her neck, and this time Asami came forward on her elbows until her breath whooshed against the hot skin of Korra’s neck and shoulders.

They quickly re-established their pace. Korra widened her two fingers, stretching Asami’s pussy before bending them so the knuckles rubbed against ridged walls. Asami tensed, trembling, then muscles contracted around Korra’s fingers in waves as teeth sunk into her shoulder. She hissed as her second orgasm quickly followed her wife’s first, a few muffled moans escaping them both as they rode out their climaxes together.

Asami collapsed on top of Korra, removing her teeth from Korra’s shoulder as Korra removed her fingers from Asami’s pussy. Korra hummed as Asami licked and kissed the tiny depressions she’d left. Kissing Asami’s temple, Korra wrapped her arms around her wife and sighed. “I love you.”


	12. Amnesia

Chief Lin Beifong covered her nose with a handkerchief as she leaned over the bloated, rotten length of flesh that used to be a human being. Flies and mosquitoes buzzed around her head, and she squinted against the irritating buzzing and the eye-watering fumes of both body and stagnant water.

Houston wasn’t called the Bayou City for nothing. Miles of murky, slow-moving waterways crisscrossed the ever-expanding city limits. The Allen brothers bought swamp land that grew into the fourth largest city in the nation and a major international port. After the Hurricane of 1800 wiped Galveston’s financial district off the map, Houston boomed. All thanks in no small part to air conditioning, a system of dams and artificial lakes, rechanneling, and oil.

Thousands of oil platforms stood in the Gulf of Mexico, driving the economy of city, state and country. Ships from the Middle East, China and Russia docked and exchanged goods in the Houston Ship Channel every day. Billions of dollars were spread across the globe from the port.

After 9/11, the government began paying attention to what the military and law enforcement departments had been saying for decades. It took a few years, but the many departments that formed Homeland Security had finally started running with some efficiency. Lin was glad they’d opened several offices across the state, because someone understood just how goddamned big Texas is.

Lin was actually the Chief of the Houston office, but the Chief of the Galveston office was out on maternity leave and the Waters’ girl had popped up on her watch. Which was lucky, because she’d bet her right eye they were connected to the case she was scrutinizing at that moment. Nothing worse than getting blocked by jurisdiction when working a case.

Even in its decayed state, she could see the telltale markings on the skin. Black squiqqles and diamonds, a religious drawing, reproduced in exact detail on each victim. The coroner’s office still couldn’t figure out how the markings were made, which was even stronger evidence that they were all connected to the same perpetrator.

Lin turned away from the dead body and gave a thumbs up and a nod to the man in the hazmat suit. She carefully climbed back up the muddy, littered, thigh-high grass covered bank of the bayou. Once she reached the street, she intentionally kept her back to the blockade. She had managed to avoid press bugging her so far, she hoped she could continue to do so.

This wasn’t a serial killer. This was a dogmatic terrorist group. One she knew had infiltrated governments across the globe. And, now, they were trying to take control of _her_ city.

“Not on my watch,” Lin muttered to herself, marching toward her vehicle.

***

“Hey, Bro!”

Mako looked up as his little brother entered his room. The RAs were required to hold a certain number of “open door hours” each week. It made him uncomfortable, but he followed procedure.

“How did you get in the building?” Mako sighed.

“Good to see you, too,” Bolin grumbled. He opened Mako’s university-supplied full-sized fridge, one of the perks of being a residential advisor. “Ooo, pizza!” Bolin looked up with eyebrows raised and a hopeful smile.

Mako smirked and rolled his eyes. “Sure, Bro. Knock yourself out.”

“Yesss!” Bolin plopped on the couch with the box of pizza, not even bothering to warm it up in the microwave. “Opahw an I er gon bow in,” Bolin said as he chewed. “Wahn cahm?”

“No can do, Bo.” Mako clicked the print button and his printer came to life. “Guren is playing tonight.”

Bolin stuck out his tongue, which was more disgusting than usual. “ _Seriously_ need to work on your taste in music, man.”

“This from the guy who listens to rappers calling women derogatory names and spelling simple words?”

“I don’t _say_ the actual words,” Bolin protested. “And you can’t dance to any of Guren’s stuff.”

“That’s not the point,” Mako said, pulling the ticket confirmation out of the printer and double-checking it. “The music is just a vehicle to convey the lyrics.”

“Whatever,” Bolin said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing it in the empty box. “Can I use your computer? I have an essay due.”

“Due when?”

“Five.”

“Dude, it’s after 2!”

“No worries, Bro! I got this!” Bolin jumped up and walked to the computer as Mako stood up and stepped aside. “Watch a master at work.”

Mako remained behind his little brother, helping him with his homework as usual. He smiled sadly as he looked down at Bolin’s gelled black hair, fingered haphazardly in “his style”. He was getting closer, which meant the potential for him ending up in the bayou was a greater possibility. He hated keeping secrets from Bolin, but he had to protect his little brother.

That’s why he was going to that concert.

***

“I love you.”

Asami shifted against her, balancing on one elbow, breasts grazing her upper arm. She wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were sad, her lips pulled in, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Korra’s heart ached. She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten that Asami didn’t _know_ her, didn’t remember falling in love and raising children and growing old together. She bit the inside of her lip to keep them from trembling, but she couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to her eyes.

“Oh, Korra,” Asami murmured, her slender hand cupping Korra’s wet cheek. “Don’t.”

Korra shook her head and turned to face the lamp. The light swam before her eyes, reminding her of the golden lights of Harmony Tower. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“It’s not that I _don’t_ love you, Korra. It’s just,” Asami sighed and shifted against her, pressing closer. A gentle finger brushed her hair off her sweaty brow. “Mom bought us a bag of chocolate covered almonds. Do you remember?”

Korra blinked her eyes open, still staring at the light refracting through the crystal lamp. The details of that day were a jumble. She imagined Mrs. Sato would by them candy, but she didn’t remember that. She didn’t answer either way as Asami continued to comb through her hair.

“Dad doesn’t allow anyone to eat in his cars,” Asami continued. “Mom said we could, because she didn’t think we’d make a mess. But the bag wouldn’t open.”

A geyser of chocolate candy erupting from a plastic bag suddenly developed in Korra’s mind. Asami’s nine-year-old face was frozen in shock, her mouth shaped in an “o”.

“I panicked. I knew Dad would flip, so I unbuckled my seatbelt to pick up all of the candy.” Asami paused. “And you helped me.”

Korra cleared her throat and turned her head to face Asami. The older woman continued to stroke her hair.

“It all happened so fast. There was something in the road, and Mom swerved at the last second to miss it. At least, that’s what the witness statements said. She nearly hit some guy, and he got mad and jumped in front of us and slammed his brakes.” Asami’s eyes began to tear up. “Mom swerved to avoid him and lost control. And we went flying through the rear window.

“Just before we went through the car window, I saw this flash of light. Your eyes were glowing, like stars. You grabbed me and turned your body to take the full force of the impact, including when we landed on the freeway. You sacrificed yourself to save me.” Asami brought her hand to Korra’s face, caressed the delicate skin below Korra’s eye.

“I-I,” Korra cleared her throat again. “I kinda remember the flying part. After that – nothing. Until the hospital.”

“So you don’t remember what happened in the undertow.”

“No,” Korra said, shaking her head. She didn’t remember water being part of the car accident. “What undertow?”

“This morning. When the blast threw us into the water.” Asami stopped stroking Korra’s hair and rested her hand on the shoulder she’d just bitten. “I couldn’t see, you know, but I was trying to swim in your direction when the current dragged me down. I knew it was the undertow. I held my breath for as long as I could, but my lungs were burning. And, then, you were there.”

Korra searched Asami’s emerald eyes, wondering what she’d seen. “And?”

“I saw the stars shining in your eyes, even through all that murky water. You pulled us out,” Asami said. “And pulled the water out of my lungs.”

“Oh.” Korra stared up at Asami. She’d _bent_ the water out of Asami’s lungs. “Um-” She stopped speaking as Asami placed a finger on her lips.

“I’m beginning to think your dreams – our dreams – are memories?” When Korra nodded, Asami continued. “So I didn’t dream you parted the Gulf like Moses.” Korra shook her head again, and Asami glared at her. “ _When_ were you going to tell me?”

“My memory didn’t come back until last night,” Korra mumbled under the finger.

“That’s convenient.”

“Asami.” Korra shifted to free her mouth. She clasped the slender wrist and kissed it before holding it to her chest. “I swear to you, I didn’t remember _anything_ until I came back _out_ of the water.”

“And why didn’t you tell me when you got back? Or when we woke up? Or during breakfast?”

“How?” Korra asked. “What was I supposed to say? ‘By the way, I’m the Avatar and a billion years ago I threw us into the future to save the world’?”

“The world isn’t--” Asami paused, eyebrows drawn together. “You can’t—How—What?”

“Exactly,” Korra sighed. “Once upon a time, before there were dinosaurs, there were people. And turtleducks. And polar bear dogs. And some people had learned from the spirits how to control the elements. And one person could control all the elements at once. The Avatar. Who was reincarnated to save the world. And some people fought alongside the Avatar, even _loved_ the Avatar.” Korra paused and swallowed. “ _I’m_ the Avatar.”

Korra never letting go of Asami’s wrist, she raised her free hand and bent a small orange flame. Asami gasped, staring in awe as it danced in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Korra snuffed it out, and Asami’s gaze shifted to the crystal lamp. Her eyes darted in another direction now and then, her lips moved on occasion, but for the next several minutes she didn’t move. Korra watched her process, admiring genius at work, still holding on to her wrist – afraid to let go.

Eventually, Asami huffed and looked down at Korra. “How did you regain your memory?”

“I don’t know,” Korra shrugged. She smirked when Asami scowled at her. “Get used to it. Happens _a lot_ when you’re the Avatar.”

“What happened last night?” Asami pressed.

“I…. I saw a light. Possibly a spirit or the spirit world.” Korra huffed. “Or just me.”

“Your eyes,” Asami murmured. “Can you do that to me?”

“I-I,” Korra stammered. She’d only bent the energy of benders, and that was only to correct Amon’s bloodbending or to punish a bender by removing their bending. Not a pleasant task. And very dangerous if not done correctly. “I-I’m not sure.”

“Try,” Asami said, sitting up on the bed and folding her legs, hands on her knees.

“Asami,” Korra sighed, shaking her head. “I should’ve been able to contain that blast, even without the Avatar state. I’ve never practiced bending in _this_ body.”

“But you know how.”

“Technically? Yeah? Maybe?”

“Okay, then. Do it.” Asami closed her eyes, chin lifted, posture perfect.

“Asami-”

“If you ever want to have sex with me again, do it. Now.”

“That’s-!”

“Bribery. Yes. Do it.”

Korra huffed and sat up, shifting to her knees on the bed, facing Asami. She placed her left thumb over the hollow of Asami’s throat, and her right thumb between Asami’s eyes. Calling on Raava, she connected with Asami’s chi. Her chakras were muddled, which was unusual for Asami. Her chakras had always been clear before.

Probing deeper, Korra traveled from the root up and found the blockage around the third eye chakra. Just as she’d opened the spirit portals, the knot untied and Asami’s spiritual energy flowed freely through her body. Asami sighed and opened her emerald eyes. They gazed intently at Korra as she released the Avatar state.

Cupping Korra’s cheeks with both hands, Asami drew their lips together. Just before they kissed, she looked into Korra’s eyes through thick black lashes and whispered, “I love you, too. Avatar Korra of the Southern Water Tribe.”


	13. Trust

“How do you feel?”

Korra gazed into Asami’s emerald eyes, tracing random patterns up and down her slender arm. They were under the covers, still naked. Asami had started to get chilled by the draft of the ceiling fan, and Korra was only too happy to cuddle with the love of her life once again.

“Good,” Asami murmured, after a few seconds of thought. She turned on her side and propped her head up on her elbow. “ _Really_ good. I feel … lighter. My mind is clearer. It’s like a fog was lifted.”

“Good.” Korra smiled. She trailed her fingers up to the back of Asami’s neck and gently grasped it, pulling her wife in for a kiss. She hummed as they separated.

“What about you?” Asami brushed Korra’s hair off of her forehead.

“I don’t know,” Korra sighed. “There’s so much to deal with. Vaatu, Beifong, my parents, Mako and Bolin. And Opal. I didn’t think about the next step. I was just trying to keep Vaatu from ending – _everything_.”

“Well, what’s our first priority?”

“Before this morning I would’ve said Vaatu.” Korra tilted her head on her pillow. “Why would someone try to kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Asami huffed. “It’s driving me nuts. I haven’t raced since this past summer, and they’re more likely to _steal_ cars than blow them up.”

“Same,” Korra agreed. “Basketball’s competitive, but it’s not that crazy. And in this time no one knows that the Avatar even exists.”

“Our company is doing well,” Asami added. “All of our artisans are well-paid and happy. Working conditions are good. Our clients sing my father’s praises.”

“Maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity? It is a factory car.”

“Perhaps,” Asami mused. “But we were parked all night on the beach under a crescent moon, and I didn’t see anyone following us. How would they just _happen_ to run across my car while they were carrying explosive materials?”

“Did you tell anyone where we were going?” Korra asked.

“No one.” Asami shook her head, her eyes sad. “Not even Dad. I told him we were staying on campus. You?”

“I told my parents,” Korra replied, her words slow, and her eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t think…?”

“They’re hiding _something_. Maybe the bomb was meant to send them a message….” Korra trailed off. “Beifong said they can’t find Katara. Maybe she’s been kidnapped? Or she’s in hiding?”

“Why would anyone kidnap a pediatric surgeon?”

“Let’s change the subject,” Korra huffed. “We’re not getting anywhere with this.”

“Okay.” Asami nodded. “What are we going to do about Vaatu?”

“Annihilation would be preferable.” Korra smirked. “ _But_ since we can’t actually _destroy_ him, we have to imprison him somewhere for 10,000 years.”

“Where?”

“Hell if I know,” Korra muttered, frowning. “Vaatu destroyed the Tree of Time.”

“Hmm. There wasn’t a ‘hell’ in our time, unless you count the Fog of Lost Souls,” Asami said.

“Just a modern figure of speech. We both know there’s no such thing.”

“Maybe not then. But why not now? What if the spirit world split into two parts after the Tree of Time was destroyed, and became ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’?”

“That’s just what we need,” Korra huffed. “Half a world full of dark spirits.”

“Right.” Asami shook her head. “How much time do we have until the next harmonic convergence?”

“Without the Tree of Time, the hemispheres have different seasons, now,” Korra said. “Raava says harmonic convergence is in eight months, during the winter solstice in the _southern_ hemisphere.”

“That’ll give you time to get back in shape,” Asami said, poking Korra’s arm.

“Hey!” Korra huffed. “I didn’t say anything about the five pounds _you_ gained this semester.”

“Okay, okay. Truce,” Asami chuckled. She hummed, her eyes staring across the room. “It’s … interesting, having lived a life and currently living a life. How different is this from being the Avatar?”

“In some ways, completely different,” Korra mused, “because I’m not any of my predecessors. Each Avatar is their own person in a different body. In other ways, it’s exactly the same. I know things because I _lived_ it, and I recognize people because I _knew_ them. But history has twisted or subverted the details. And the people I recognize no longer know _me_.”

“Sounds lonely,” Asami murmured.

“Yeah,” Korra agreed, nodding. “It is.”

They laid quietly for a moment, Korra’s mind recalling the shock and trauma of losing her past lives _and_ her successors. Asami pressed a finger into her nose and Korra blinked, derailing her depressing train of thought. She smiled at Asami and kissed the finger.

“Where is Vaatu now?” Asami asked, back on task.

Korra closed her eyes and focused on the spiritual energy around her. For the first time, she noticed there was a buzzing – a constant, pulsing ocean of energy surrounding them. It made it difficult for her to focus on any source of spiritual energy beyond her mother and Asami.

“I don’t know,” Korra sighed. “There’s some kind of interference. It’s hard to sense anything past it.”

“The power grid?”

“No,” Korra said, shaking her head. “It’s something else. Something … spirity.”

“Let’s sleep on it,” Asami said, placing a hand on Korra’s cheek. “We have time to figure things out.”

They settled into each other, Asami’s head on Korra’s shoulder, Korra’s arms enveloping her slender frame. Korra kissed Asami’s hair and sighed, trying to forget the worries nagging at the edge of her conscience.

The next morning, Korra and Asami dressed together in the front bathroom of the Waters home. It was the only bathroom with a tub, which Korra had utilized for healing them both (among other activities). The other bathroom, the master bath where Asami had cleaned up the day before, just had a large shower.

Although they’d both showered the day before, another bath was definitely in order. Korra thought it highly probable her mother knew they’d had sex, but she was an adult and she’d rather deal with her parents’ reaction sooner than later. At least her father wasn’t home. Yet.

“I still say it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Asami said, adjusting her bra. Senna had washed her clothes and placed them on the decorative table next to the bathroom door across the hall from Korra’s room.

“Yeah,” Korra said, pulling her fresh t-shirt down. She sat down on the closed toilet lid and sighed. She looked up at Asami through her bangs. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

“Korra. We’ve been through this. _Many_ times.”

“I know, I know. I just,” Korra sighed again. “I’m supposed to _protect_ you from harm. Not throw you in the _middle_ of it.”

“I can protect myself, thank you. And no one’s forcing me into anything. Including you.” Dressed in her clothes, more wrinkled than they were Thursday night, Asami squatted in front of Korra. She put her hands on Korra’s bare knees and squeezed. “I _choose_ to be here. I choose to be here _with you_. Okay?”

“Okay,” Korra whispered. She smiled as Asami kissed her. “What would I do without you?”

“Let’s not find out.” Asami gave her a quick kiss and stood up. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Korra hopped up and followed Asami out of the bathroom. They rounded the corner of the hallway to find Senna in the kitchen, her body only visible from the elbows up over the built-in bar that separated the den from the kitchen.

“I wondered when you two were going to get up,” Senna said, smiling. Korra noticed shadows underneath her mother’s blue eyes. “I was just about to put up the food.”

“Mornin’, Mom.” Korra’s stomach rumbled at the sight of waffles, grits, pork sausage patties, and scrambled eggs.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Senna and Korra kissed each other on the cheeks, and Senna tucked Korra’s hair behind her ear before moving on to hug Asami. “Morning, Asami Dear.”

“Good morning, Senna. Thank you for washing my clothes.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I’m afraid I can’t do anything for your jacket, and it’s already stiff.”

“I know a few tricks,” Asami said. “There’s plenty of saddle soap in the workshop.”

“How did your father react to the news?”

“I didn’t tell him,” Asami said, sliding a pat of butter into her bowl of grits before putting it in the microwave.

“Asami,” Senna chastised.

“I don’t want to go home, and I didn’t want him to worry.” Asami pressed the numbers on the microwave and hit start. She returned to the table to make a plate to warm up as well.

Senna opened her mouth to protest just as a baritone voice echoed in the front hallway.

“I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” Senna and Korra yelled at the same time.

Korra met her father in the den and wrapped him in a tight hug, squeezing has hard as she could. He’d showered and put on fresh clothes before he’d driven home, but the smell of decay, earth and gulf water still lingered.

“Oof,” Tonraq chuckled, returning Korra’s hug. “My little polar bear’s been hitting the weights.”

“You bet,” Korra said, stepping back with a grin. She flexed both arms, showing off the definition of her biceps even under the short sleeves of her t-shirt.

“That’s my girl,” Tonraq said, ruffling her hair. “You leave me any breakfast?”

The microwave beeped, and he looked up to see Asami and Senna in the kitchen. “Uh-oh! Looks like I’m competing against _two_ hungry college students.”

“Hello, Ton- … Mr. Waters,” Asami corrected herself, switching out the bowl of grits for the plate of eggs and sausage.

“Please, call me Tonraq.” He looked down at Korra, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s your car? I didn’t see either of yours in the driveway.”

“Yeah,” Korra drawled, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “About that….”

Asami and Korra told the story over what was now an early lunch, the couples sitting next to each other, Korra across from her father at the round kitchen table. Tonraq didn’t interrupt as he ate, but his smile shifted into a deeper and deeper frown and he kept his eyes focused on either Korra or Asami as they spoke.

When they got to the part when Beifong brought them home, he exchanged glances with Senna. Neither Korra nor Asami missed the exchange.

“After the phone call, she said she’d be back to ask more questions and stormed out of the house,” Korra finished. She drained the last half of her glass of orange juice as she watched her parents look at each other in silent communication.

Sighing, Tonraq set down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair. He drummed the tabletop with his thick fingers before he made eye contact with Korra again. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his blue eyes stern. “I think you should move back home.”

“What?!” Korra exploded, immediately on edge. “Why?”

“Because the next time Beifong speaks to you, I want to be sure a lawyer and one of us,” he gestured between himself and Senna. “Are present.”

“I’m not a kid,” Korra retorted. “I can handle myself.”

“You know the legal system is rigged against people like us, Korra,” Tonraq said. “I don’t want you to end up in prison because they tricked you into confessing something you didn’t do.”

“So, _you_ lock me up instead?”

 “You’ve never been in jail, Korra.”

Korra snorted, catching herself. She wanted to yell that she’d been in jail. And interrogated. And worse. But he wouldn’t remember that.

“Korra,” Senna chastised. “Listen to your father. We only want what’s best for you.”

“No,” Korra said. “Basketball season just started. I can’t commute and keep up with classes and practice and games!”

“So, you’re not worried about someone trying to kill us?”

Tonraq, Senna and Korra turned to look at Asami. She sipped from her glass of water, eyebrows raised, gaze never wavering from Tonraq’s face.

“I just think it’s odd that your first concern is Beifong’s questioning, not that someone planted a bomb in my car powerful enough to throw us 50 feet into the water,” Asami continued. She took another sip.

“Of course, we’re concerned,” Tonraq said. Korra noticed how tense he suddenly was. “All the more reason for you _both_ to stay at _home_.”

“What are you hiding?” Korra asked, quietly. The wheels were beginning to turn, and she didn’t like the direction they were taking her thoughts.

Tonraq and Senna exchanged glances again. Senna spoke first. “Please, Korra. We love you. So much. You have to trust us.”

“You know who’s behind this? Don’t you?”

“Korra, please,” Senna said.

Korra was about to start shouting when Asami’s hand squeezed her arm. Asami looked across the table at Tonraq and Senna, a polite smile on her lips that didn’t reach the sharp hardness of her green eyes. “Thank you for your hospitality. Do you mind if I call a taxi to take us back to campus?”

“Asami-.” Tonraq stopped when Asami held up her hand.

“We are both adults, and you cannot hold us here. And I agree with you – the less we know, the better.” Asami stood up from the table and walked around it past Korra, squeezing her shoulder lightly on the way to the phone in the den.

An hour later they arrived on campus, after making a quick stop by Asami’s house to grab a toolbox and toolbelt. Before they went into the dorm, Korra surreptitiously used her metalbending to make certain there wasn’t a bomb in Naga. Asami carefully looked under Naga with a mirror, checking each wheel well thoroughly. Then, Asami popped the hood and scanned the compartment for any signs of sabotage.

“Car trouble?”

Both women nearly jumped as Mako stepped from behind the car. He’d apparently cut across the parking lot from the sidewalk on Wheeler Avenue. His gelled hair was flaking, and his clothes reeked of cigarette smoke.

“Hot date?” Korra quipped, smirking at his unkempt appearance.

“A gentleman never tells.” He smirked back. “Can I help?”

“No, thanks,” Asami said, closing the hood of the car. “I know my way around a V8.”

“Right.” Mako nodded. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” Asami interrupted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Happens all the time.”

Korra felt … something. She narrowed her eyes, studying Mako. There was something about him, something that reminded her of that buzzing interference. She focused on it, tried to tap into the energy – and gasped as a surge of spiritual energy pushed her back.

“Korra?” Asami had a hand on her arm. She looked from Korra to Mako. Mako shrugged his shoulders, his expression a combination of baffled and worried.

“I’m fine,” Korra said, pressing her finger and thumb into her temples.

“Maybe it’s an allergic reaction?” Mako suggested, taking a step back. “I was at a concert last night. People aren’t supposed to smoke, but….” He held up his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I don’t have any allergies,” Korra said. She opened her eyes and met Mako’s amber ones. Her heart lifted and dropped. He didn’t remember who she was, and she wasn’t certain just then if that was a good or bad thing.

“You can develop them later,” Mako said. “Or maybe you didn’t know you had an allergy until you were exposed.”

“I _know_ that,” Korra retorted. “Thank you.”

Mako’s concern switched to annoyance, an expression very familiar to Korra. “Don’t you think it’s weird that you keep passing out?”

“I _didn’t_ pass out.”

“You _almost_ did.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mako.” Asami smiled. “You don’t have to wait for us.”

Recognizing he’d been dismissed, the disgruntled RA continued on to the dorm.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Asami asked.

“Yeah. I’ll explain later.” Korra turned to Asami, grasping the key to Naga from the myriad hanging from her neck to lock the car and arm the alarm. She grabbed Asami’s toolbox, and the pair walked down the pebbled sidewalk to Taub Hall.


	14. Sacrifice

Korra sat in one of the desk chairs as close as possible to Asami, slurping noodles out of a cardboard box from a pair of chopsticks. Asami had set up her laptop on the “empty” desk in Korra’s dorm room, taking advantage of the University ethernet and library access. UH had a partnership with Rice University and the entire University of Texas system. Any student could access and borrow materials from any of the other school’s libraries.

Asami’s hair was piled on top of her head, loosely secured with her favorite rhinestones bedazzled black plastic chopsticks. She was wearing a pair of Korra’s sweats, with “COUGAR ATHLETICS’ in bold red oversized font on the warm, gray material. Korra's shorts and ripped shirt, exposing her sides and sports bra, was an odd juxtaposition.

On the computer screen, she was carefully aligning the longitudinal and latitude lines she’d transposed on two images. On one of the images was a bright red cross marking a particular coordinate. Quite a few Internet tabs were still open at the bottom of Asami’s screen, including various news outlets and the many, many departments involved with Homeland Security.

“There,” Asami breathed. She smiled at the screen as Korra leaned forward. “The planet is much larger now than it was in our time. But I think I calculated it correctly.”

“I still can’t believe it’s been 250 million years,” Korra said. She stared at the red cross, trying to make out landmarks.

Asami hummed in agreement. “The ‘Great Dying’. Quite apropos.”

Vaatu had almost succeeded in destroying the world. Scientific evidence suggests massive volcanic eruptions coincided with severe climate change and large meteor impacts to wipe out more than 70 percent of all life on earth. Insects, mammals, fish, coral, people -- gone. It was a wonder anything had survived.

Korra and Asami guessed that one of those impact craters was actually the explosion of the Tree of Time. In 250 million years, a lot of dust and dirt and ice had layered upon the earth, and the planet was considerably bigger than it had been. Asami had to research a lot of maps, archeological guesses as to how the continents shifted and reshaped as the tectonic plates traveled across hot magma.

Now, Korra was tilting her head at the approximate location of where the Republic City Spirit Portal should be. “Is it just my imagination, or does that cross cover anywhere between here and the Florida Panhandle?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Asami sighed. “I can’t get any more definite than that.”

“Ugh,” Korra groaned, stabbing a shrimp with her chopstick. “The portals were open! I should be able to _feel_ something!”

“You said yourself the Tree of Time anchored both worlds together. Without it, the worlds have drifted out of alignment.” Asami leaned back in her desk chair, arms folded. “I think we’re in _this_ time because both worlds will be in alignment for harmonic convergence. Possibly for the first time in 250 _million_ years.”

“Hmm.” Korra chewed her food, thinking.

“It would make sense if the portal is in New Orleans. There’s hundreds of ghost sightings in that city,” Asami said.

“Maybe,” Korra said. “But I think it’s here. I mean, think about it. _Everyone_ is here. Our parents, Mako, Bolin, _Beifong_.”

“Speaking of everyone,” Asami turned in her chair, pulling her legs into lotus position. “We need to ‘wakeup’ the others.”

Korra grunted in annoyance as she chewed a mouthful of noodles, rolling her eyes.

“We can’t fight Vaatu by ourselves, Korra.”

“I know,” Korra muttered. She dropped her chopsticks into the container and picked up her bottle of sweetened green tea off the desk. After a long swig, she heaved a sigh. “Do I _need_ to ‘wake’ my uncle?  Or my parents?”

“Unalaq might have valuable insight into how to defeat Vaatu,” Asami said. “He did help us in the Tree of Time.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Korra slurped up the last of her noodles, then closed the chopsticks in the box and shot it into the wastebasket. She grinned as it landed in the plastic-lined cylinder. “Nothin’ but net.”

“Korra.” Asami reached out, and Korra took her offered hand. “Are you still going to play for the team?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well,” Asami said. “We need to ‘wake’ the others as soon as possible, because we all need to train. We also have to find the spirit portal, and figure out how to keep Vaatu or any remaining dark spirits from tapping into the power grid. And we still don’t know who attacked us or why.”

Korra nodded, glancing at the laptop with its open tabs. She was sure the room wasn’t bugged (Asami had asked her to check), but they still felt uncomfortable talking about the virus program that was attempting to break into Homeland Security from Asami’s laptop.

“I get what you’re saying,” Korra began, “but … if everything goes well, and we defeat Vaatu … we’ll still have our lives to live. You remember how much I loved pro-bending. And being part of Team Avatar never kept you from running Future Industries. If I quit now, I might not get another chance to play.”

Asami smiled, her emerald eyes soft in the harsh fluorescent light. “Alright. But we still need to get the others on board. A.S.A.P.”

“Okay, okay,” Korra sighed. She lifted Asami knuckles to her lips and kissed them. “But Mako will have to wait until I figure out what’s going on with his energy.”

The phone rang. Each dorm room came with a land line, and Korra’s blue slimline usually sat quietly on top of the refrigerator.

Korra rolled her eyes and stood up. “If this is another prank call…. Hello?”

“Hello. Korra?”

Korra turned to Asami and mouthed “your dad”. “Hello, Mr. Sato. How are you?”

“I’ll be better when I get in touch with my daughter. Is Asami there?”

“Yes, sir. She is. Hold on.” She handed over the phone to the now-standing Asami with a sheepish grin.

“Hey, Dad.” Asami stared absently at the off-white wall as she listened to her father. “Yes.” She pursed her lips. “Really?” She twisted the coiled cord around a long, thin finger. “Oh, good.” Her black eyebrows furrowed, and she looked at Korra. “Yes.” Her eyes drifted from Korra’s, listening intently. She nodded. “Okay. See you then. Love you, Dad.”

Korra raised her eyebrows as Asami hung up the phone.

“Dad wants us to come over tomorrow. He wants to show you the project we’ve been working on.”

“Oh? Cool! I’d love to see it.” Korra grabbed Asami by the waist and pulled her close. Asami giggled as she kissed the long, exposed neck. “Now, where were we?”

***

Mako knocked on the door, keeping his face turned away from the street. Chief Beifong’s house was an old three-story brownstone. It had survived countless hurricanes with most of its bricks intact. The roof hadn’t fully survived Hurricane Ike, but the brand-new one now in its place would likely survive a few more.

He remained still on the five-foot high stone steps, eyes fixed on the peephole. A rain drizzled like heavy fog around the narrow, sheltered front stoop. Eventually, the peephole darkened, and the locks clicked. He entered, wiping his feet on the rug as the door was closed behind him.

“Well?”

Mako smiled at Chief Beifong. When he’d joined the Central Intelligence Agency right out of high school, he’d never dreamed he’d be working so closely with Homeland Security before he earned his bachelors. He unzipped his jacket and pulled out the padded manila folder into which he’d so carefully put the collected items, handing it over to Beifong.

“Fingerprints for all three of them on the autographed poster and the pens,” Mako said, as he watched Chief Beifong look through the contents. “A water bottle, capped. Five cigarette butts. And a photograph of a ring I thought you might find interesting.”

Eyebrows knotted, Chief Beifong pulled the photograph Mako had downloaded from his phone and printed on his dorm-room computer on plain paper. It was grainy, but the magnified, cropped shot of the lead singer of Guren’s pinky ring brought a smile to the gray-haired woman’s face.

On the silver ring, stamped in a diamond-shaped face, was a fish skeleton in symmetrical curves and whorls, with a diamond in the middle of its head.

“Well done, Mako,” Beifong said, eyes fixed on the ring. She finally looked up and nodded. “And no one suspected you?”

“Nope,” Mako said. “Just another fan.”

“Be careful,” Beifong quipped, face snapping back into her usual scowl. “We have reason to believe their victims were fans.”

“I know, Chief,” Mako said, nodding. “I’ll keep my guard up. If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Good.” She stepped toward the door to unlock it and let him back out into the rainy night. She paused, hand in the air above the first lock. “Your cover is a dorm monitor at UH, right?”

“Uh….” Mako almost corrected her, but thought better of it. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Ever met an Asami Sato or Korra Waters?”

Mako’s eyebrows furrowed, and he nodded. “They’re both on my hall. They’re suitemates. Well, roommates, really.”

“Really?” One of Beifong’s eyebrows arched, and her green eyes flashed. “How fortunate.” She placed her hovering hand on his shoulder and directed him to her kitchen. “Why don’t we have a little chat? You like coffee?”

Mako nodded, glancing over his shoulder as the distance between him and freedom extended with each footstep.


	15. P.R.I.D.E.

Korra slowly opened her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. She was hot, and sweaty, and uncomfortably stuck to someone. Blinking, she realized she was under not only her top sheet, but Asami had pulled the comforter up over both of their heads.

Asami never could handle the cold the way Korra could, and the temperature in the Quads was controlled by maintenance and kept at 65 degrees Fahrenheit no matter the temperature outside. The massive central air units ran nonstop year-round and had to be exchanged for new units every three years with helicopters. The cold front had brought rain last night and left behind the damp, chilly weather that heralded the coming winter.

Korra carefully pulled the cover over her head and under her chin, moaning softly as fresh air filled her lungs and cold air hit the sweat in her hair, taking care not to let too much cold air hit Asami’s damp skin. Under the comforter, her wife shifted, pressing her naked back into Korra’s naked chest. Korra winced as Asami accidentally pinched a nipple with her elbow. Korra loved her full breasts, but they sometimes got in the way.

She yawned and stretched as well as she could, taking in the sunlight and the quiet of the dormitory on an early Sunday morning. No rushing water through the pipes, no banging doors, no sneakers squeaking on painted concrete, no music filtering through vents. Korra sighed, smiled, and closed her eyes.

A knock on the door caused her to jerk against Asami. With quiet annoyance, she pulled down the covers enough to step over Asami and out of the bed She put the comforter back over Asami’s head, grabbed her ripped shirt and sweatpants off the floor, and hopped toward the door as the knocker rapped the door a few more times.

She peaked through the peephole and saw Mako standing in the hallway. Sighing, she turned the handle and opened it just enough to peek through. “Mako?”

Seeing that Korra had answered the door, Mako took a step back. “Hi.”

“Hello?”

“Room inspections this week,” Mako said, holding up a clipboard Korra just noticed he was holding. “This is the sign-up sheet for time slots. Put first initial, last name, and room number in the time slot you’re available.”

“Oh, okay.” Korra blinked as Mako held out the clipboard for her, as well as a pen. “Now?”

Mako nodded, and Korra reluctantly opened the door wider to take the clipboard and pen. However, just as she was about to close her fingers around them, Mako snatched them back.

“I-I’ll uh.” A blush came up, coloring Mako’s cheeks. “I’ll leave the signup sheet on the breast – _bulletin!_ – _bulletin._ Board. Bulletin board. By my room. Good day.” He bowed, stood straight, _saluted_ , then turned 45 degrees military style and marched down the hall.

Eyebrow raised, Korra looked down at her shirt. In her haste, the t-shirt had twisted and one breast – the side that had been behind the door – was fully exposed to the cold air, erect nipple and all. She snorted and closed the door, the sound of Mako knocking on the next door following her back to bed.

Asami nearly spit toothpaste on the mirror when Korra recounted the incident. She hurriedly bent over the sink, turning on the water to rinse her mouth out. She laughed as she stood up, using her face towel to wipe her mouth. “Oh! That’s hilarious! Poor, Mako.”

“I can’t believe he saluted!” Korra laughed. “All he needed was the uniform!”

The two continued laughing and reminiscing as they prepared to go to Asami’s house to meet Hiroshi. Korra hadn’t been to their house since before the car accident, and she wasn’t sure if her stomach could handle meeting Hiroshi _and_ digesting. After a quick inspection for incendiary devices, Korra followed Asami’s directions and Naga cruised down Elgin as it turned into Westheimer.

“Nervous?”

Korra glanced over at Asami then quickly refocused on the curving, four-lane road with only a double yellow line between opposing directions. “A little, yeah,” Korra admitted. “I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever met your dad as your _girlfriend_. And public opinion on same-sex couples isn’t much better now than it was in our time. At least we could marry in the United Republic.”

“We can marry in some states,” Asami said. “And Canada.”

“It’s not recognized in Texas.”

“Hopefully, someday, it will be. Until then, I think a Canadian wedding at a ski resort would be lovely. Lots of snow, and mountains, and evergreens.”

“You had me at ‘snow’.” Korra grinned, shifting gears as the traffic sped up. “Looks like they’ve finished some of the construction here.”

“About time,” Asami huffed. “The way this city handles its infrastructure is ludicrous.”

“True,” Korra said. “But the Mayor of Houston isn’t the President of the United States. It’s an entirely different political structure.”

“And they always go with the cheapest bid,” Asami sighed. “Even in this region with heavy traffic, roads should last more than a decade. This section of Westheimer alone has been poured _five times_ in my memory. _Five times_.”

“Maybe you should run for mayor?” Korra glanced at Asami, who was staring out of the windshield with a scowl.

“Maybe,” Asami mumbled.

Korra could tell from the tone that Asami was thinking. She smiled, wondering just her brilliant wife had in store for this world. She read the green sign over the coming intersection. “Claremont’s coming up.”

Asami guided her past Claremont and she soon turned north on a smaller street into River Oaks. Huge live oak trees were everywhere, branches arching over the road like a forest tunnel. About four blocks north, Asami directed Korra to pull into a grey-bricked driveway.

At Asami’s direction, she turned off the main driveway and onto a narrow lane barred by a gate. Korra punched in the access code on the keypad ensconced in vine-covered brick, and the gate rolled back with well-oiled ease. Korra guided Naga around the back of the house, around the pool, and into the empty garage space that once held Asami’s prized Nissan G-TR.

As Korra turned off the car, Hiroshi walked through a side door, a smile under his bushy moustache. Korra’s queasiness returned.

“There’s my little girl,” Hiroshi chuckled as Asami stepped out of the car.

Korra stepped out as well, closing the door gently as she watched Asami hug Hiroshi and kiss him on the cheek. She approached slowly, hand in one pocket, suddenly feeling underdressed in khakis and a long-sleeved blue cotton button-down. Hiroshi was still in his Sunday suit, the charcoal gray complementing Asami’s black slacks and form-fitting burgundy turtleneck.

“Korra.” Hiroshi extended his hand, and Korra crossed the space to shake it. “It’s so good to see you healthy and whole. You look _fantastic_.”

Korra grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Hiroshi. We’re all adults here.”

“O-okay,” Korra stammered. “Hiroshi it is.”

“Don’t worry, Korra,” Hiroshi laughed, clapping a hand on Korra’s shoulder. “I’m glad you and Asami are dating. Now I don’t have to worry about my daughter getting pregnant.”

“Da-ad!”

Korra laughed with Hiroshi this time, ducking her head when she caught Asami’s glare. They chatted through brunch, Korra thanking the hired help every time they approached the table. She noticed that Asami and Hiroshi only thanked them once, the first time, then smiled or nodded in acknowledgement after that. It seemed rude to Korra, until she remembered she hadn’t thanked the air acolytes on Air Temple Island every time they refilled her tea cup when she and Tenzin were talking in the dining hall.

“That was an excellent meal, thank you,” Hiroshi said, and the butler and housekeeper began to clear the table. Hiroshi stood up, Asami and Korra following suit. “Now it’s time to get down to business.”

Asami rolled her eyes, a wide smile on her painted lips. “You had more fun building this than you did your first car.”

“Oh, no,” Hiroshi said, shaking his head. “Nothing can match that joy. But, this is a close second.”

Korra followed them back toward the garage. They went through a different door and stepped into an anteroom with suits lined with metal and goggles hanging from hooks. A clipboard with a pen hanging from a string hung by the door, as well as an organizer with 12 small pockets, the top row of which held four beepers in individual pockets.

“Flame retardant suits and eye protection,” Asami explained, sitting down on the built-in bench to take off her shoes.

“Lead-lined?” Korra asked, assessing the weight of the oversized grey jumpsuit.

“Lead-lined,” Asami confirmed. She quickly stepped into her suit, zipped it up, and then opened the bench and pulled out two pairs of boots. She placed one pair by Korra’s brown, low-cut Dr. Martens.

“You can never be too careful,” Hiroshi said. He frowned. “I would’ve built this workshop further away from the house, if Old Man McKinney wasn’t so stubborn.”

Korra raised an eyebrow at Asami as she stepped her socked feet into the boots.

“The McKinney family lives on both sides of us,” Asami said. “They wouldn’t sell.”

“ _He_ wouldn’t sell,” Hiroshi corrected. He adjusted his goggles over his eyeglasses, then smiled. “Enough talk about the past. We’re here to see the future.”

Hiroshi took a beeper out of the first pocket, checked something on the clipboard, then fastened it to his chest on top of the suit. He checked a second one and handed it to Asami, then he pulled out a third one and wrote something down on the clipboard. He handed the third one to Asami as well.

“Electronic dosimeter,” Asami said, clipping it to Korra’s chest. “Measures immediate and long-term exposure to radiation.”

Korra raised an eyebrow at Asami, no longer embarrassed about her girlfriend’s father seeing Asami touch her chest. She gave Asami her “WTF?!” look. Asami smiled and mouthed, “It’s okay.”

“Everybody ready?” Hiroshi made sure they were all suited up, then punched a code into a keypad on the wall. The heavy metal door clicked. He turned the handle and opened it, waving the two women through before him. Korra followed behind Asami, seeing nothing but grey jumpsuit and grey walls and grey floor. Then Asami stepped aside, and Korra stared in confusion at the brown-haired, fake-tannish, glass-eyed female mannequin on a stand in the middle of the room.

She looked over at Asami, wondering what was so special about a mannequin, when the mannequin blinked and turned its head to directly face them. Korra took a step closer to Asami, eyeing the moving mannequin with suspicion. Every instinct was telling her to terminate the thing. With extreme prejudice.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hiroshi said. He stood next to Korra, a fatherly smile on his face. “You’re thinking about those silly robot movies that made everyone panic. I would never use my talents for war. Pride isn’t designed for military combat. She isn’t a weapon. She’s a medic.”

“ _She’s_ a _medic_?” Korra repeated, turning her head toward Hiroshi while never taking her eyes off the mannequin-robot.

“She is indeed,” Hiroshi smiled. “Pride is going to save the lives of millions.”

“The name is an acronym. Paramedic Response In Disaster Events,” Asami interjected. “P.R.I.D.E.”

“Imagine,” Hiroshi said. “If we’d had just ten P.R.I.D.E.s to respond to the World Trade Center on 9/11, we could’ve saved hundreds of lives. Not just the people in the towers, but first responders as well. Tornados, earthquakes, car accidents.” He smiled at Korra. “We can assure thousands of other children have the same miraculous recovery you did, Korra. In an emergency, _time_ is _critical_.”

Korra watched as Hiroshi approached the mannequin-robot. It kept its eyes on Korra as Hiroshi stepped to its side.

“P.R.I.D.E. can run 45 miles per hour. She can swim to a depth of 100 meters. She scans the area, finds any signs of human life, takes a risk assessment, and treats and rescues all of the victims.” Hiroshi narrowed his eyes. “ _No one_ gets left behind.”

“The frame is an alloy of iron, graphite and aluminum,” Asami said. “Lightweight but strong. We designed a hollow scaffold, like bird bones. The wiring, lubricant, sensors, etcetera are run within those spaces. It only weighs 200 pounds, but it can lift a metric ton.”

“She can detect a heartbeat through 50 feet of lead,” Hiroshi boasted. “And with her nuclear-powered core, she can run years without needing a recharge.”

Korra glanced quickly between Asami, Hiroshi, and the mannequin-robot. She opened her mouth. Closed it. She glanced between them again, opened her mouth, and emitted a series of bewildered gasps.

“It’s not indestructible, Korra,” Asami assured, putting her hand on Korra’s shoulder. “It’s durable, but not indestructible. And it only comes equipped with surgical tools. No guns, no explosives.”

Korra said nothing and narrowed her eyes at the mannequin-robot. It continued to stare at her, a neutral expression surrounding its glass eyes.

“She’s not ready yet for a public appearance,” Hiroshi chuckled. “But we think she’s ready for testing.”

“Actually,” Asami frowned and cocked her head. “It should’ve completed the scan by now.”

“Wait,” Korra said. “It’s scanning me right now?”

“I thought it was,” Asami said. She left Korra’s side (much to Korra’s dismay) and walked behind the mannequin-robot to a sort-of podium attached to the platform. It appeared to be some sort of computer screen. Korra watched Asami squint at the screen as Hiroshi approached. He squinted at the screen as well, adjusting his goggles.

“That can’t be right,” Hiroshi muttered. “When was the last diagnostic run?”

“It was completed this morning at 5:29,” Asami said, fingers tapping, typing and clicking. She bent over the screen, and her eyes widened. She glanced up at Korra, then quickly returned her gaze to the computer screen, expression studiously neutral as her father watched her troubleshoot to his satisfaction.

“I’m sorry, Korra. I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our visit short. It looks like we’re experiencing some technical difficulties.” Hiroshi heaved a sigh and looked up at Korra, a mixture of frustration and dejection in his tilted moustache. “She doesn’t even recognize you as human.”


	16. Passing

“Why?” Korra asked in a hushed voice after Asami closed the outer door to Hiroshi’s workshop. “Why did Hiroshi have to invent mechas _again_?!”

“He’s always dreamt of building an android,” Asami replied as she slowly walked through the house. “I think his latent memories influenced his work. I want to show you something.”

A wide staircase led to the second floor and they ascended the winding, wooden steps. Korra followed Asami as they turned right at the top of the stair, passed a wall of books, and stopped at the second door on the left.

Asami opened the door and stepped aside for Korra to enter. She took a few steps into the room and stopped.

“Whoa.” For a split second, Korra thought they’d traveled back in time. Asami’s bedroom was _exactly_ the same as it had been in Republic City. Same desk, same four-poster bed with the same linens, same locations of walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom. Even the balcony was in the same place, the doors concealed by the exact same curtains. It even smelled the same – jasmine and that perpetual presence of metal and motor oil blended together with the smell of Asami she knew so well.

“Asami.” She turned her head as the door closed behind her. Asami leaned back against the door. “How? When?”

“Preference. Choices I’ve made over the years,” Asami said, stepping away from the door. “This is literally the bedroom of my dreams. Our memories seem to be strong influences on our behavior. You did name your car ‘Naga’, after all.”

“Yeah,” Korra whispered, a sharp pain in her chest bringing tears to her eyes. The car went faster than her faithful polar bear dog, but it couldn’t comfort her after a nightmare or protect her when an enemy attacked. The car certainly didn’t miss her when she was gone and greet her with a hug and a wet, doggy kiss on the cheek. She wished she could’ve brought the real Naga back with her.

“I miss Naga, too.” Asami said, hugging her close. Korra closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into her wife’s shoulder.

“Korra,” Asami began, keeping her voice low. “P.R.I.D.E. did something … similar, when Dad tested it on himself. And me.”

“What happened?” Korra lifted her head and stepped back to see Asami’s face clearly.

“Sometimes the karyotype would be one pair short,” Asami said. “About 30 percent of the time it would only identify 22 pairs instead of 23. The 14th and 15th chromosomes seemed to have combined and-”

“Wait, wait, stop,” Korra said, stepping back. “Are you saying that thing scanned my DNA? Without a sample?”

“Well, technically, it did collect a sample,” Asami said. “Human beings shed thousands of skin cells every hour. It only needs about five to start the analysis.”

“You’re telling me that … thing … sucked up my dead skin cells from the air and was able to karyotype my DNA in only a few minutes?”

“Two minutes and 39 seconds, on average,” Asami said.

“That’s….” Korra was about to say impossible, but the teasing expression on Asami’s face stopped her.

“I _am_ a genius.” Asami smirked down at Korra.

Korra huffed a chuckle and stood on her tiptoes to kiss her wife. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“Me, too. But back to P.R.I.D.E. Humans have evolved from millions of years of biological adaptations,” Asami said. She let go of Korra and walked to the edge of her bed, where she sat. She tossed her hair over her shoulder before she continued. “The closest primates have 24 pairs of chromosomes. The evidence suggests that the Homo sapiens chromosome 2 is a fusion of two chromosomes that are still independent in the DNA of other living primate species.”

“But, you and your dad are still human,” Korra said. “Right?”

“I don’t know.” Asami hesitated. “I haven’t had time or processing capacity to run the sort of detailed analysis it would take to determine relationship between us and human. There are humans with joined 14th and 15th chromosomes, and it doesn’t seem to increase risk for disease. The DNA mutation is rare, but it happens.”

“They definitely didn’t teach this in biology,” Korra sighed as she sat down on the bed next to Asami.  “I’m assuming that mecha found something weird like that in my DNA?”

“Yes, and more.” Asami nodded. “You have the same elongation we have, which shows as only 22 pairs on the karyotype. _And_ there are two complete sets of DNA in each nucleus that combine to form a quadruple helix.”

Korra squinted as she pictured what Asami was telling her. “So, I’m like that chic in ‘Fifth Element’?”

“Something like that,” Asami chuckled. Her face quickly morphed back into a serious expression. “Do you know _how_ we reincarnated?”

“Not exactly,” Korra said, shaking her head. “It’s not how Avatars usually reincarnate. I mean, this is _my_ body. Same eyes, same hair.”

“Same parents,” Asami added, nodding again. “It feels more like we were _placed_ in this time than _reincarnated_ in this time.”

“Yeah,” Korra mused. “I never met my grandparents. I mean, back then, you know? I don’t know if the grandparents I know now are the same grandparents I had then.”

“I _know_ mine aren’t,” Asami huffed.

“Wow.” Korra flopped back on the bed with her feet still on the floor, her abdominal muscles stretching. She drummed her fingers between the buttons of her shirt. She pouted at the familiar canopy above her. “Right.” She sat up and looked at Asami. “I need to see my parents.”

“Why?”

“Like you said, memories influence us. Remember how they reacted when the Red Lotus tried to kidnap me? They practically imprisoned me ‘for my own good’ and kept it a secret for more than a decade.” Korra frowned. “And Dad was there when Zaheer almost killed me.”

“That was a hard day on all of us. _You_ especially.” Asami put her hand on top of Korra’s. “Go. Talk to them. Find out what they’re hiding. I’m going to stay here and help Dad.”

Korra raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Mechas aren’t good or bad; they’re tools. And you’re the only waterbender on the planet right now.” Asami sighed. “If we fight Vaatu, a lot of people could get hurt. We need all the help we can get.”

“You’re right,” Korra sighed. She gently pulled Asami’s head closer and softly kissed sweet, red stained lips. “As usual.”

***

Both her father’s 2005 Toyota Tundra and her mother’s 1996 Toyota Corolla were in the driveway when she pulled up. She parked Naga across the driveway to protect it from traffic. Korra unlocked the front door and called out: “Mom? Dad?”

“Korra?!”

As she closed the door behind her, Korra’s parents walked into view from the den. Her mother rushed to hug her as she walked down the hallway. Korra returned the hug, but it was brief. She placed her hands on Senna’s arms and stepped out of her mother’s embrace.

“I haven’t changed my mind.” Korra looked up at her father, meeting his blue eyes with a stern glare. “I’m _not_ staying.”

“Please, Korra,” Tonraq said. “Try to see reason.”

“We just want to keep you safe,” Senna added.

“I _know_ that.” Korra pushed her hair out of her face and huffed. “And I _know_ you’re hiding something. Tell me what’s going on so I’m not walking into danger blindfolded.”

“We’re your parents, Korra. Not your peers.” Tonraq shook his head. “It’s normal for parents not to tell their children everything. It’s for your own good.”

“Cars blowing up is _not_ _normal_ ,” Korra said. “And it certainly wasn’t for my own good. It could’ve killed us! You weren’t even _surprised_! And you weren’t worried about it happening again. You were more concerned about Beifong locking me up!”

“Korra.” Senna frowned. “Of course, we’re worried. That’s why we want you to come home.”

“We love you, Sweetheart,” Tonraq said. “Your mother and I would do anything to protect you.”

“This is a _house_ , not a bomb shelter! What makes you think they won’t attack me here? Or plant a bomb in Naga?” Korra said. “You can’t protect me from everything or be everywhere at _all_ times. What is going on?”

Korra knew her father’s answer by the way he squared his shoulders. He shook his head. “The less you know, the better.”

“Grrr!” Korra threw up her hands. “Did it occur to either of you that I can protect myself? That I could _help_?”

“No!” Senna and Tonraq shouted at the same time. Senna placed a hand on Korra’s arm. “It’s too dangerous, Korra.”

“More dangerous than an exploding vehicle?” Korra scoffed. She glanced between her parents, their silence speaking volumes. “How dangerous are we talking here?”

“All you need to know,” Tonraq said, his baritone firm but gentle. “Is that we love you, Korra. The best thing you can do right now is lay low.”

“No. No,” Korra said, shaking her head. “I’ve heard all this before, Dad. Silence and hiding are not going to keep me safe. It just delays the inevitable. They’re willing to endanger innocent lives to … get to….”

Korra’s voice trailed off as she realized what she hadn’t heard. A car had exploded on a Galveston public beach. There were witnesses to the explosion. There was a hospital emergency department who had examined them. Residents of the island had to have heard the explosion. “There’s no news.”

She didn’t miss the anxious glances exchanged between her parents. She narrowed her eyes as she studied their faces. They _knew_. They knew there wouldn’t be any news about the explosion. They knew _why_ there wouldn’t be any news.

_What if_ , Korra thought, _they’re not worried about another car bombing because they knew there wouldn’t be another car bombing. What if … it was staged_.

Korra’s eyes widened with the realization. She took a step back toward the front door, well out of reach of their grasping hands. She looked back and forth between her parents, wondering for an instant if this was how Asami felt all those years ago. “You knew.”

“No,” Senna whispered, raising a hesitant hand.

She locked eyes with her father, pain and guilt clearly written in the wrinkled corners of his eyes. “How could you?”

“We had nothing to do with that, Korra.” His voice was thick, choked. “I swear.”

“Liar!” Korra hissed, taking another step back. Anger and fear rippled through her, and she raised her fists. “You _knew_!”

“Korra, please.” A tear trailed down Senna’s cheek. “Please, believe us. We had nothing to do with what happened to you and Asami.”

“Who else knew I went to _that_ shack on _that_ beach!” Korra fumed. “Who _are_ you?!”

She realized she’d bent fire daggers _after_ she saw the astonished expressions on both of her parents’ faces. Korra decided it would be ridiculous to pretend she hadn’t, so she switched to a proper fighting stance and carefully observed her parents in the additional light of twin red-and-orange flames.

After the initial shock, Tonraq and Senna both quickly looked around themselves as if expecting someone to leap out of the walls. Tonraq spoke first, his shoulders sagging slightly under its invisible burden. “It seems we weren’t the only ones keeping secrets.”

The sadness in her father’s voice struck through her heart. Korra immediately released the flames, dropping her hands to her sides but keeping her feet shoulder-width apart. “I-I….” She sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t know until Friday.”

“You look like you’ve already mastered it,” Tonraq admired with a bewildered chuckle.

“It’s called bending,” Korra said. “Firebending.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Senna said. Her voice was firm, and her eyes were worried. “Whatever you call it, if they discover they succeeded they’ll try again.”

“Too many people have access to you in the dorm,” Tonraq added, shaking his head. “Your room may be bugged.”

“And with Katara missing-”

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down!” Korra held up her hands. “I really don’t think we’re on the same page, here.” She held up one hand and bent a small flame in her palm. “I’m the Avatar.” Using her other hand, she bent a small cyclone in her hand that picked up enough dust to be visible. “My spirit is fused with the spirit of light, Raava.” With a flourish, she easily pulled water from the air-conditioned Houston humidity and streamed the glistening ribbon between her hands. “I’m the only person who can bend all four elements.”

With great care, Korra picked up the lopsided clay pot she’d made in elementary school off of the shelf where her mother insisted on proudly displaying it. She heard Senna’s gasp as it flew across the room into Korra’s waiting palm. She flattened it, pulled it up into the shape she’d intended it to be, flattened it again, then returned it to its original imperfect shape. She sent it back to the shelf, replacing it with barely a sound.

Tonraq gave a low whistle. Korra looked up at him to see a broad smile on his face. “We’ve always known you were special,” Tonraq said. “We thought we’d never have a family. We’d tried, gone to several doctors. They all told us the same thing.”

“There was an aurora one night,” Senna said, smiling up at Tonraq at the memory. “An aurora. In _Texas_.” She smiled at Korra. “You were born nine months later, on the winter solstice.”

“I-I….” Korra furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t remember an aurora being part of that story.”

“Because we never told you,” Tonraq sighed. “That aurora came from a geomagnetic storm that shut down the entire power grid in Quebec. A lot of strange things happened after that.”

“When we went to the doctors to confirm you were on your way, they wanted to do a research paper on you. We’d already spent so much money trying to start our family,” Senna explained. “They covered all of my prenatal care, and paid us a stipend to cover what we’d already spent on fertility treatments. All we had to do is let them run some minimally invasive tests. Blood work, CT scans, that sort of thing.”

“It seemed like a blessing,” Tonraq said. “Until your accident. That’s when they tried to take you.”

“What?” Korra looked at her parents wounded expressions, the pain of those terrible days still fresh. “Why?”

“You survived,” Senna said.

“We didn’t know it,” Tonraq said. “But the research paper caught the attention of others. What we considered a miracle these ‘scientists’ considered an opportunity to further their research on the long-term effects of that geomagnetic storm.”

“They knew we couldn’t afford the treatment you needed to make a full recovery,” Senna sniffled. “They threatened to pull you off the respirator if we didn’t sign the contract.”

Korra’s stomach twisted as tears stung her eyes. She would’ve died in those early days without the respirator. “C-could they?”

Both of her parents nodded. “Legally, yes,” Tonraq croaked. He cleared his throat. “Fortunately for us, Katara heard about you and intervened.”

“Thank God for Katara,” Senna chuckled through her tears. “They’d given us 24 hours. We were only an hour away from signing when she showed up with a lawyer, a judge, two police officers, and a skilled team of paramedics to transfer you to Texas Children’s.”

 “Transfer?” Korra asked. “I thought I was always at Texas Children’s?”

“They flew you to UTMB first,” Senna said. “It was the closest trauma center.”

“Unfortunately,” Tonraq said. “The UT system has _very_ close ties with the US military.”

“The military?” Korra frowned as she considered why the military would want to take a 7-year-old girl fighting for her life. Thoughts of previous inhumane, government-funded experiments came to mind. “They didn’t stop trying, did they?”

“Katara agreed to give them copies of her examinations,” Senna said. “But she’d observed … things … that she never wrote down.”

“You’re stronger, faster and healthier than most people your age, Korra,” Tonraq said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “Even Katara couldn’t hide everything extraordinary about you.”

With a long sigh, Korra turned and entered the living room. She sat down on the edge of the couch and put her face in her hands, elbows on her thighs. She felt the cushions give as one, then both of her parents joined her on the couch, flanking her.

“We love you, Sweetheart,” Tonraq murmured. “We knew you were special from the moment we knew you existed. All we ever wanted was to cherish you as the gift you are.”

“You were always such a wild, free spirit. So full of life and light,” Senna said, running her fingers through Korra’s short hair in the way that always made Korra calm and sleepy. “We never wanted to lock you up or keep you from having a normal life.”

“We just want to keep you safe, Korra.” Tonraq put a hand on her opposite shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “No matter what they think, you’re human. And you have just as much right to life and liberty and happiness as any other person. If they find out what you can do, they’ll try to take all of that away.”

“You want me to pretend I’m normal,” Korra muttered into her hands. “Pass for human? Like the mutants in ‘The X-Men’?”

“Korra, please.” Senna could hear the tantrum brewing in Korra’s tone.

“What else should I pretend to be, hm?” Korra dropped her hands, letting them dangle between her knees. She narrowed her eyes as her anger fought against her mother’s calming touch. “Maybe I should break up with Asami and fuck half the football team?”

“Korra,” Tonraq admonished. “You know that’s not-”

“That might not be where it starts, but who knows where it will end?” Korra stood up and turned around to look down at her parents. “I’m not running, I’m not hiding, and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life living a lie.”

“Just because you survived one bomb doesn’t mean you can take on an entire army, Korra,” Tonraq said.

Korra closed her eyes and connected with Raava. She let her power bend the air around her as she opened her eyes. She frowned at the fear in their faces, but she hoped it helped make her point. “I am the Avatar,” she said, Raava’s voice echoing behind hers as her hair fluttered against her ears. “I am the Bridge between the Spirit and Physical Worlds. It is my duty to maintain balance and peace.”

She closed her eyes, released Raava, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, her parents were still sitting on the couch, looking up at her. Their hands were clasped where she’d been sitting, and her mother’s other hand was covering the older woman’s mouth. Fear was still etched in their expressions, but there was something else there, something that gave her hope.

_Recognition._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's after the 21st. I had to fulfill my civic duty, so I didn't have a lot of time to focus on writing a story. I will finish this. Bear with me.


	17. Muscles

“Ready?”

Korra stood in front of her mother, cerulean eyes meeting cerulean eyes. Senna was sitting on top of the closed lid of the toilet, hands resting on top of bluejeaned knees. At her father’s insistence, they’d relocated to the front bathroom as it was the only room in the house without windows. Tonraq was standing in front of the locked door, his arms folded as he stood guard against imaginary intruders.

Senna had volunteered to be the first. She took a deep breath and nodded her assent. Korra smiled in return before placing her thumbs on her mother’s forehead and sternum.

She found the block immediately. Korra was relieved to find it was identical to the one that had been in Asami’s sixth chakra. She confidently used her energy to clear the block, despite the initial resistance of her mother’s spirit.

Once complete, Korra released Raava and stepped back, studying her mother’s face. Senna looked older, the familiar worry lines and crow’s feet deepened by darker memories. “Mom?”

Her mother smiled and stood up, blue eyes shining, arms reaching for her. Korra welcomed the hug, this time holding her mother for much longer. Too soon, a nagging worry forced Korra to break the hug. “Can you bend?”

Senna reached one hand over to the sink, turning on the cold water. The water wound out of the tap, through the air and collected into an undulating ball of water in between Senna’s hands. With a deeper crease in between her eyebrows, the ball stopped wobbling and hung suspended in the air as a perfect sphere. Senna softly blew on the sphere and it expanded, crackling as it froze, frostlines fracturing the interior of the sphere like facets of a diamond.

Korra grinned. She and her father were _powerful_ waterbenders, but her mother was _precise_. Senna had a level of focus and control that Korra could rarely match on her best days without the Avatar state. She watched in admiration as the sphere melted, its shrinking circumference never wavering.

A low whistle came from the door. Tonraq watched from his post, his eyes wide. “That’s amazing.”

“You have no idea,” Korra smirked.

“He will in a minute,” Senna said as she returned the water to its original course. She turned off the water before she approached Tonraq, placing one hand on his chest and standing on tiptoe as he bent down to meet her lips. “Your turn, honey.”

Korra pressed closer to the bathtub as her parents switched places. It was obvious from which of her parents she’d inherited her larger-than-average frame. When he was finally seated, her father’s nose was level with her chin, and she had to stand between his knees to properly access the chi points. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

***

Three days later, Korra watched herself in the weight room mirror as she adjusted her earbuds and shifted her weight between her feet. This was her last set, and she wanted to make it good. She was very particular about proper form, be it bending, weight-lifting or basketball. Using proper form increased her power and efficiency of movement, and decreased risk of injury.

Proper form required mental focus. Unfortunately, Daren and his clique of dickheads were making that challenging. After he’d grabbed her butt and she’d nearly broken his fingers, their coaches had negotiated an uneasy truce. Daren was a record-breaking running back; Korra was a highly recruited prospect. Both were supported by influential alumni who wanted the Cougars to earn NCAA titles, so neither one was going to be punished for physical assault.

They avoided each other as much as possible. However, the weight room’s “free” time – not scheduled for any particular sport – was neutral territory. And that Wednesday afternoon Korra was in the weight room without any of her teammates. Which was why Daren and his like-minded football friends felt entitled to make it look like they were doing sexual things to her in the mirror while she did her leg circuit.

She’d been tempted – _very tempted_ – to bend something to make them fall, but the proximity of the equipment could’ve turned that into a trip to the hospital. And, worst case scenario, could’ve required some sneaky bending before the paramedics arrived. Korra had turned up her music instead and done her best to ignore the idiots.

She shook out her arms and bent over, pretending not to see the grey-and-red clad meathead who stood three rows behind her jabbing his hips at empty air while his teammates laughed. She focused on her dead lifts, making certain she didn’t arch or bow her back, maintaining the tension in her hamstrings where her butt connected to the back of her thighs through the entire motion.

After the last set, she placed the bar on its rack, removed the weighted plates and put them back on their proper racks, then grabbed her towel and water bottle and headed for the door. She left behind the rank of sweat, iron and unwashed men and entered the indoor training area. Metal beams vibrated above her, concrete echoed below her, and water flowed through the pipes in the training room to her left as she walked down the promenade toward the front entrance.

Korra wanted to _hit_ something. She still hadn’t found a place to properly run through her bending katas. She could do some of the more basic or delicate water and air forms, but bending earth and fire indoors was out of the question. She’d sparred with Asami the previous night, but they’d attracted an audience and had to cut their session short. She needed somewhere private and safe, where she could focus on her bending and not worry about endangering an innocent bystander or drawing attention to herself.

Living in a non-bending world was complicated. She’d always appreciated her ability to bend, but she obviously hadn’t given enough consideration to how much danger she posed to non-benders. Most people didn’t have the quick reflexes and keen observation skills of Asami Sato. She had to be careful.

Unblocking her parents’ chi hadn’t eased their fears. If anything, they were even more afraid – which fueled an anger she hadn’t seen on her father’s face since they’d fought Zaheer together on Laghima’s Peak. Korra remembered her mother being a pacifist, but there’d been a fury in Senna’s eyes when she’d left early that Monday morning that Korra didn’t recognize.

Her parents had made it clear they were no longer satisfied with standing on the sidelines while their only child risked her life. They still wanted her to move back home. She’d refused, but they hadn’t acquiesced until after a lengthy, exhausting argument. She’d agreed it was best to continue to pass for “normal” and stay under the radar. Which meant keeping up with classes, and basketball, and training for the battle for all of existence while locating their allies – _in secret_.

Tonraq wanted Korra to find and unblock everyone she’d brought to the future as soon as possible, willing or not. Korra didn’t know exactly who they all were. And, even if she did find all of them, she still wasn’t certain if she should unblock those who weren’t willing. Amon and Aang had proven that chi could be manipulated by force, but she wasn’t sure what the consequences would be in this case. Asami and her parents had been willing; if she forced someone’s chi open against their will, would she harm their ability to bend?

Korra wanted to take a more nuanced approach. She’d learned to trust her instincts. Being physically 18 again seemed to make it difficult for her parents to trust her decades of experience. Even before Korra knew she was fused with the Spirit of Light, things always worked out for the best when she did what she felt was right. Forcibly invading people’s chi seemed like a really bad idea.

Asami agreed when Korra talked to her about Monday night, but they still hadn’t decided whom they should attempt to convince next. Korra thought Bolin or Opal would be the easiest. Tonraq insisted Chief Beifong should be next. Asami suggested Mako. Korra understood their points-of-view, but something about Mako’s energy made her uncomfortable. Besides, Mako was a die-hard skeptic. And convincing Beifong to do _anything_ against her will was out of the question.

As Korra pressed closer to the waist-high wall separating the promenade from the multipurpose practice area, she noticed Bolin and Mako talking next to one of the support columns. The wall was between them, and they were winding red—and-white streamers around the column, Mako placing clear tape at strategic points. She realized the other cheerleaders were also decorating for homecoming.

Korra had assumed, incorrectly, that Bolin was a football player. He certainly was built like a football player, and she’d seen him talking and eating with several guys on the football team in the Satellite food court. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was a cheerleader. She’d realized her mistake at her first home game when she’d seen him with the UofH flag held aloft on an eight-foot pole, streaming in the wind he’d created by running top speed around the football field in his white, short-sleeved pantsuit.

The homecoming football game would be that Saturday, and the facility was bustling with both athletes and other students participating in one of the many homecoming week activities. The football equipment managers were rolling out the 60-yard AstroTurf and checking it for lumps that could trip and injure someone.

She was surprised to see Mako in the Alumni Center. Although he was talking to Bolin, Korra had the distinct feeling that he’d been watching her.

“Air Korra!”

She smiled and took out one earbud as Bolin’s super-loud voice actually echoed despite the AstroTurf, padded walls and three-story-high ceiling. He’d taken to calling her “Air Korra” after her dunk during Midnight Madness earned her a front-page photo in the campus newspaper of her soaring toward the goal, basketball in one hand. Korra didn’t see what the big deal was. She was 5-7. Muggsy Bogues was 5-3 and had a four-foot vertical when he played in the NBA. The man used to block _centers_.

Bolin picked her up and spun her around in a bear hug. She laughed as he put her down. “Hi, Bo. Streamers, balloons, posters? You guys are going all out.”

“Yeah! We’re even doing the halftime show for the flag football game!” Bolin bounced on the balls of his feet. “We usually don’t, but since Mako’s coaching and Opal’s on the team I convinced some of the ladies to whip up a little somethin’ somethin’.”

“Oh, yeah!” Korra had heard about the annual women’s homecoming week flag football game between the Quads and the Towers. The all-time win-loss tally was woefully tipped in the Towers’ favor. Korra had thought about participating, but she’d had to miss the interest meeting for a chemistry study group. “I actually wanted to do that.”

“Then today’s your lucky day!” Bolin grabbed her arm and dragged her toward Mako. “Because Mako has something to ask you.”

Once in front of the older brother, Korra folded her arms and cocked her head, waiting for Mako to speak.

“I-I, umm.” Mako cleared his throat, a blush creeping up from his collar. “I’m short two players.”

Korra raised an eyebrow. She and Mako stared at each other, his face turning redder by the second.

“Aaand,” Bolin prompted.

“Do you and Asami want to play?” Mako asked.

“Why us?”

“You’re both shaped good.” Mako’s eyes widened. “I mean in boob shape! I mean – good shape! You’re both. In _good._ Shape. Like, athletic.”

“It’s okay, Mako,” Korra laughed. “It’s not that big a deal. I flash my boobs almost every day.”

Bolin inhaled a loud, overdramatic gasp, hand clutching invisible pearls. “Korra!”

“In the locker room, Bo,” Korra sighed. “Where I change clothes?”

“Oh! Oh, right. Gotcha.” Bolin frowned. “Wait!” He dramatically gasped again. “Mako! What were you doing in the girls’ locker room?!”

“I wasn’t!” Mako yelled, looking around them. “And keep your voice down.”

“He wasn’t in the locker room.”

“Thank you!”

“He was in _my_ room,” Korra added with a smirk.

Another gasp, followed by a whisper-shouted. “Mako!”

“I didn’t--! I just--!” Mako jabbed a finger in Korra’s direction as he whispered. “ _She’s_ the one who answered the door half-naked!”

“It was a wardrobe malfunction, Bo.” Korra held up her hand before Bolin could react. “Purely accidental. Chill.” She grinned at Mako and rolled her eyes. “When’s the game?”

“Thursday night, here, at seven,” Mako answered.

“That’s _tomorrow_.” Korra glanced between the brothers. “We haven’t even practiced with the team.”

“Our last practice is tonight at 7p. In the field by the Quads. Across from the basketball courts,” Mako said.

“We might not be much help,” Korra warned.

“Anything’s better than forfeiting,” Mako replied.

“Yeah! Or we won’t get to perform our routine!”

“Okay, okay,” Korra chuckled. “I can’t speak for Asami, but count me in. I’ll text her.”

“Thanks, Korra,” Mako said as she waved at the brothers and continued on her way out of the building, thumb already typing on her phone.

***

Asami decided to play. She was also looking for a way to channel her aggression, as she was frustrated with what she saw as unnecessary changes that Hiroshi wanted to make to P.R.I.D.E.

After a quick assessment of skills at the beginning of practice, Mako made Asami their starting quarterback. Well, actually, their _only_ quarterback. She was calm under pressure, calculating, accurate, and taller than every other woman on the team. With Asami’s height and Korra’s speed and sure hands, all 11 women and Mako hoped they could turn the tide in the Quads’ favor.

It didn’t hurt that Opal played tight end. The little lithe dance major could pirouette through a defensive line with the ball or deliver a bruising tackle on anyone who dared to attempt to sack Asami. She’d even managed to knock the wind out of Korra, once. Korra returned the favor on the next play, which led to Mako blowing his whistle and reminding them it was _flag_ football.

Traditionally, the teams were only given two weeks to practice, and Mako stuck to the rules. Which meant the five plays they had to learn were simple. Basically, each play meant Asami was going to give the ball to someone. Three passing plays and two running plays, one for each side of the field. The third passing play was a long bomb straight into the end zone for a touchdown.

It was a short practice, and most of the women had barely broken a sweat by the end of it. Denise, who frequently asked Asami for help with her calculus assignments, was one of the residents who’d joined the team. She grinned as she walked up to the pair after Mako dismissed practice. “We might actually win this.”

“We haven’t seen the Towers’ team,” Korra said.

“They’re not that good,” Denise said. “Just rough. I saw you two on the stage in Lynn Eusan last night. You can handle them.”

“Please,” Opal scoffed as she joined them. “My grandmother’s a judo master. She taught me everything I know. They don’t want _this_.”

“A judo master?” Korra exchanged glances with Asami. “Does she give lessons?”

“Like you two need lessons,” Denise laughed. The four women started walking two-abreast down the sidewalk to the Quads, Asami and Opal leading the way.

“I haven’t trained under a master since high school,” Asami said. “You can lose a lot in two years.”

“Grandma only teaches yudansha,” Opal said, offering an apologetic shrug. “But her students teach the lower ranks.”

“ _Watashi wa yondan-desu_ ,” Asami said.

“ _Zhen de ma_?” Opal grinned. “Cool! I’ll see if she has time to take on a new student. We could definitely use the money – no offense.”

“None taken.” Asami smiled.

“Okay,” Denise said, winding her long dredlocks into a large knot off of her neck. “Some of us here don’t understand Japanese.”

“I don’t think Opal was speaking Japanese,” Korra said.

“Mandarin,” Opal agreed, shaking her head.

“You’re Japanese, too?” Denise asked Korra.

“Nope. Inuit.”

“And?”

“Just Inuit,” Korra said.

“Really?” Denise scanned Korra from head-to-toe. “How’d you get that booty?”

“I get it from my mama.” Korra smirked as Opal laughed. “Black women aren’t the only ones with butts, you know.”

“Sorry!” Denise held up both hands. “Sorry! I thought you were mixed!”

“Sounds like _someone’s_ been checking Korra out,” Opal said, nudging Asami with a wink.

“Didn’t you throw yourself at Korra an hour ago?” Asami looked down at Opal with an arched eyebrow.

“That was a tackle!” Opal blushed as Korra and Denise burst into laughter.

***

The entire women’s basketball team and a third of the men’s basketball team was on the sidelines, chanting and cheering along the promenade wall behind the cheerleaders. In fact, most of the spectators at the game were student athletes from various sports. As Korra and Opal were the only athletes playing, the crowd was cheering more for the Quads than the Towers. Sandra, one of the seniors on Korra’s team, said that the crowd was usually half that size – and decidedly pro-Towers.

The Towers team had at least 30 women participating – enough for a dedicated offense and defense, and subs for both. With only 11 players, all the women on the Quads’ team had to play offense and defense. The Athletics Director called Mako and the Towers’ head coach to him. He flipped a coin, and the Towers’ coach won and asked for first possession.

Korra and Denise lined up in front of the Towers’ center as defensive tackles. Korra quickly assessed the Towers’ offensive line. They were overweight, over-confident, and flat-footed. Any move they made she could read and counter before they knew what happened.

The Towers’ quarterback – a tall, light-skinned, hazel-eyed black woman with sandy brown hair pulled into a ponytail – wrinkled her nose in disgust at Korra. In response, Korra smirked at their quarterback and smooched the air.

“Fucking dyke,” The quarterback said.

Korra flashed both middle fingers before balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. She was going to enjoy this.

The whistle blew and the game started. There was so much noise from the spectators that it was hard to hear the audibles. Korra shifted her attention from the offensive line, to the ball, to the quarterback’s face, and back to the offensive line.

As soon as the ball was snapped, she was on the move. She easily created the space she needed with a stutter-step fake and slipped between the offensive linesmen. Korra wrapped one arm around the quarterback’s waist, spun 180 degrees, and let the woman fall flat on her back. She stood over the winded figure with her arm in the air, a yellow flag raised in triumph as whistles blew and Mako yelled at her over the cheering of the crowd.

They were penalized 10 yards for her illegal tackle, but the damage was done. The Towers’ was so focused on Korra that they missed Opal’s blitz. The next play was a pass easily intercepted by Asami. Then it was their turn to attempt to score.

They switched directions (a necessity on a 60-yard field) and lined up. Asami had given them nicknames minutes before the game, so each player knew she was getting the ball to them. The number she yelled would indicate pass or run – odd numbers for pass, even numbers for run.

“Gear! 22!” Asami yelled. “Gear! 22! Hut! Hut!”

Remembering Mako’s coaching for a running play that wasn’t for her, Korra dropped back, faked inside, then shot outside. Two defensive players ran for her, a third hesitated. She looked over her shoulder just as Asami gave up the pretense of finding an open receiver, tucked the ball against her side, and ran full speed toward the endzone.

Korra stayed wide, running along the line as Asami flew down the middle, spinning once to evade a hand grasping for her red flag. The rest of the Quads came running behind Asami, and when she crossed the line and spiked the ball, they quickly surrounded her in a screaming group hug before devolving into various touchdown dances.

It took a while for the referees to stop laughing and get the game back on track. Mako was glad they’d scored, but he was clearly annoyed by the lack of professionalism of the volunteer referees (aka a couple of the football players the head coach had selected).

After two incomplete passes (thanks to Asami and a tall, freckled, red-haired white woman with glasses named Chelsea) and an unsuccessful run (thanks to Korra), the Towers’ celebrated a completed pass that gained them 30 yards before Asami stripped the receiver of her yellow flag. However, a chorus of whistles followed by a chorus of cheers from the crowd ended the celebration. Opal stood next to the quarterback with a yellow flag in her hand, arm raised high above her head, a smug expression on her face.

The Quads scored again with a completed pass to Opal before halftime. As it was a weeknight, each half of the game was only thirty minutes – actual minutes, not game minutes. The Quads team grabbed their water bottles and gathered around Mako.

“Good game so far.” Mako had to talk just under a yell to be heard over OutKast’s “B.O.B.” blasting from the cheerleading squads portable sound system. “Sandra, you need to help Asami on safety. Don’t just stand there watching the game. Asami, spread the ball around next half. They’re expecting you to throw it to Opal. Chelsea, on offense, take Denise’s position at right tackle. Denise, move to tight end. Korra, you take Chelsea’s place at center.”

“We need Korra for the run,” Denise objected. “She can’t if she’s on the line.”

“They’re going to retaliate for that stunt you pulled earlier,” Mako said to Korra; she stuck out her tongue. He turned his attention back to Denise. “If Korra draws the defense, that should open a hole for you to run. Got it?”

Anything else Mako had to say was drowned out by an eruption of cheers and yells from the crowd. The team looked up to see Bolin and the two other male cheerleaders booty bouncing along with the women in red shorts and black t-shirts.

 Korra became aware of a dark, spiritual energy. She turned her head toward it, looking down the main hallway toward the entrance of the Alumni Center. She couldn’t see anything spirit-y, or anyone acting unusual. She turned her head back to scan the crowd and noticed Mako staring in the same direction she’d just been looking.

When they locked eyes, she raised her eyebrows. Mako shrugged. The cheerleaders finished their routine and the flag football players were called back to the AstroTurf.

Mako had been right about the Towers’ team looking for revenge. The Quads started the half with possession of the ball, and before Korra could snap the ball to Asami in her new position as center two women on the Towers’ defensive line jumped offsides and rushed her.

It was too easy. When they were almost at arm’s length, Korra squatted then sprang up with her elbows wide, catching one woman under the jaw with a “clack!” of teeth. The second woman stepped to the side at the last second, only to meet Asami’s elbow with her nose.

The “friendly” game quickly devolved into an all-out brawl. With the muscle advantage of Korra’s teammates and Korra’s, Asami’s and Opal’s defensive arts training, the Towers’ players and fans quickly retreated, yelling slurs and insults as coaches and security guards escorted them out of the building.

Forced to stay put by officials and campus police until most of the crowd outside had dispersed, the cheerleaders turned up the music and started a dance party. Twice, Korra felt that same dark energy, which seemed to be retreating with the exiting crowd. She wanted to talk to Asami about it, but they both were distracted by accolades and various conversations. By the time the cheerleaders started a “Soul Train” line, it had slipped Korra’s mind.

Eventually, Korra, Asami, most of the Quads team, and all of the women’s basketball team settled in a corner of the building. They watched the football players/volunteer referees roll up the AstroTurf as campus security and Houston police officers released people in groups of ten. The door closest to them led to the parking lot that they usually crossed to get to their locker room in Hofheinz Pavilion.

“It’s only been a week,” Asami said in Korra’s ear.

Korra smiled. She’d had the same thought just as Asami spoke. They’d left that parking lot the previous Thursday night and their lives had drastically changed. She looked around at the faces of the women around her, oblivious of the threat to their very existence. These women were her friends. They had no idea who she was, or even that the Avatar existed. But she was their Avatar, and she would do whatever it took to protect their future.

She hadn’t realized she’d tensed up until Asami’s hand gently caressed her lower back. Korra kissed Asami’s cheek, taking a moment to re-memorize the shape of her wife’s features before returning to the conversation. She was the Avatar; and, soon, she hoped to have Team Avatar together again, talking and laughing together after winning the fight – and the possibilities of a second lifetime before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think three days or so is doable.
> 
> Also, I've tried to keep the science of the fiction as realistic as possible. There really was an aurora seen in Texas in the 1989 due to a geomagnetic storm. The Quebec Blackout really happened. Although none of us developed super powers, I think it's still cool.
> 
> I do respond to all comments as soon as I can. Every letter you type makes me happy. I am truly honored.


	18. I've Never Had a Girlfriend Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only very, very, *very* loosely tied to the prompt.

She exited the building along with the rest of the rowdy crowd. She would’ve stayed, but the coaches eyed her suspiciously and she didn’t want to draw Mako’s attention. The last thing she needed was some lovesick groupie to expose her.

Outside under the orange fog lights and the sliver of a waxing quarter moon, she felt her chest expand. She glanced around as if deciding which way to go, then turned to walk away from campus as if she were heading to the McDonalds. Several other spectators had the same idea, and she felt comfortable blending in with the crowd.

She was glad she’d come alone. Her acolytes, useful though they were, could never have passed for college students. Two 25-year-old men showing up to watch a college-girls’ flag football game would’ve drawn attention to them. Again, she didn’t need lovesick groupies exposing them.

They would have the full attention of the entire world – when it was time. For now, they had to lay low. They were too close to make a mistake now.

She pulled her hoodie forward, covering more of her face. She stayed on the side of the street of the baseball field instead of crossing it to reach the fast food chain. The students hardly spared her a second glance, too involved in recounting that pathetic excuse of a fight.

Even before the basketball women had joined the squabble, it had been obvious to her who would win the fight. Numbers ended the conflict faster and with fewer serious injuries, but Asami Sato had made contact with three of the enemy before the basketball team had joined them. Asami Sato hadn’t even been touched during the entire conflict.

And Korra Waters. _She_ had engaged three at once, taken several blows to the arms and back, and still managed to deliver decisive strikes to the face and nose to her immediate assailants and three additional women. None of their blows even phased her.

She looked both ways as the light turned and crossed the street. She turned left and walked down the sidewalk past the exorbitant gas station with its bulletproof glass behind metal bars. Beyond a line of unkempt shrubs and a brick wall was a graffiti-tagged car wash. She walked up the driveway of the car wash and into the safety of the shadows of one of the dark bays.

A click sounded as she put her hand on the handle of the back door. She entered the backseat and closed the door behind her. She felt the curiosity of her acolytes as she secured her seatbelt. They would not dare to ask her. It was not their place.

A police car drove slowly past. She narrowed her eyes, but it continued on its way.

“Let’s go,” she ordered.

“Yes, Priestess.”

They pulled into the street, driving about half of a block before turning on their headlights. They turned right by the Burger King and drove past Jack Yates High School, heading deeper into Third Ward as they headed toward the highway. Once they were across Highway 288, she looked into the rearview mirror and caught the eye of the driver.

“It’s definitely her,” she said.

“And the other girl, Priestess?” The acolyte in the passenger seat asked, turning his head to see her face.

She frowned. He asked too many questions. She knew the police were trying to track them down. That Beifong woman appeared more frequently in her dreams, creeping closer and closer. She wondered if he was their informant. Still, there was no harm in telling the truth.

“Bait.” She sat back in her seat and looked out of the window, smiling at the old live oaks stretching their crooked claws over the street. When secrecy became more important than his usefulness, she’d slit his throat.

***

Korra was two-fingers deep and mouth-on-clit when her coach called. She knew it was her coach, because she’d given his number a different ring tone on her cell phone. As soon as her brain registered the tones, she knew exactly why he was calling. His entire team had gotten into a fight with other students. On campus. In the Alumni Center. In front of his boss.

Consequences were at the other end of that ringtone – consequences that could get worse if she didn’t answer the phone. When she looked up over Asami’s quivering torso, she met intense emerald eyes and a stern gaze that made it clear that stopping to answer the phone would cost her. Dearly. So, Korra redoubled her efforts. If she couldn’t answer the phone, she could at least try to call back sooner.

And she did love to hear Asami scream her name.

By the time Asami’s climax had calmed to gasping shudders, Asami’s roommate was banging on the door between their rooms.

“Hypocrite!” Asami shouted. A final “smack” of a bang, as if a palm slapped the painted metal, was her roommate’s reply.

The couple giggled, Asami watching as Korra wiped her mouth and fingers with her t-shirt. Once dried, she picked up her phone and opened her missed calls. Sure enough, “Coach Dana Dash” was the last missed call.

She sighed as she tapped the phone icon to call him back. Whatever the punishment, she would take it. She didn’t have to hit that woman. She didn’t have to tackle that quarterback. She could’ve sucked it up, turned the other cheek. Or just tripped the two charging women and let gravity hit them in the face. She didn’t have to rise to the challenge, as she usually did.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Coach Dash,” Korra said. “It’s Korra. Sorry I missed your call.”

“Call the team. Locker room. Four A.M. Dress to run.”

“Yes, sir.” Korra waited for more instructions, but heard nothing on the other end of the line. She lowered her phone and looked at the screen. The call had ended. Her coach had hung up the phone without even saying goodbye.

Korra sighed again, closing her eyes. When long arms wrapped around her waist, she tilted her head in expectation of the kiss that followed.

“Are you still…?” Asami murmured in her ear. “Or do you need to sleep?”

“Sleep,” Korra grumbled. “After I eat crow twenty times.”

“You only have 11 teammates,” Asami chuckled. “And there are worse punishments than running laps.”

Korra called her teammates, apologizing for getting them in trouble each time. Ten of them mumbled something about it not being her fault, but Korra still felt guilty. Sandra, a senior and their team captain, told her to “stop being a drama queen and get some sleep”.

After brushing her teeth, a quick shower and a change of bed, Korra dressed in everything but her shoes and slept for a couple of hours. Asami made certain she got up when her alarm went off at 3:30a. She gargled with mouthwash again and met up with her teammates that lived in the Quads on the red brick steps of Oberholtzer.

Once assembled, they walked through Oberholtzer past the post office to reach the winding sidewalks toward Cullen. They saw the rest of their team through the trees, walking in groups from Cougar Place and the Oaks. All 12 of them eventually met on the same side of Cullen in front of the football stadium.

They walked in relative silence, eyes keeping track of the few people walking or jogging around campus at that time of morning. Houston was the fourth largest city in the nation, and there was always someone on the streets 24-7.

Most of the time nothing happened, but that didn’t mean the men they walked past weren’t a threat. Those men just preferred easy targets. Especially easy targets that hadn’t looked into their faces and couldn’t identify who they were. And, being a group of twelve tall, muscular athletes dressed for foot pursuit was an additional deterrent.

They walked around Hofheinz to the back entrance facing the Alumni Center. Sandra, team captain and holder of keys, went down the white-painted metal stairs first to let them into the building. The filed quietly past the training room and turned down the hall that led to the anteroom of the women’s locker room.

The door of the anteroom was open, and the lights were on. Low voices carried from inside into the echoing tunnel. Sandra turned around, walking backwards as she held a finger to her lips, then turned around and walked to the open doorway.

Sandra poked her head into the room and the rest of the team paused. She brought her head back out and stepped to the side of the door. The entire coaching staff walked out of the anteroom, including their trainer and her student apprentice.

They followed their coaches down the wide tunnel, sneakers occasionally squeaking. Eventually, the tunnel met another tunnel and the turned right toward the lit opening onto the Guy V. Lewis court. The clock controls were out, and the scoreboard was on. There was no ball rack. Two insulated kegs holding either water or reconstituted Gatorade flanked the official’s table.

“Everyone here?” Coach Dash asked.

They all looked at each other, searching for any missing faces. They all nodded. A few replied, “Yes, Coach.”

“Good.” He folded his arms. “Pick a stair. One that goes all the way to the top.”

***

Korra sighed in relief as she turned the key to her dorm room and the door opened. It was just after 6a, and she could get in another shower and a couple of hours of sleep before class. Missing class was not an option, even after jogging up and down 60 stories of stairs. Her calves and quadriceps were quivering, and her lower back was burning – and she was one of the most in shape on the team. She couldn’t imagine how the post players felt.

“Korra?”

She groaned as she slowly turned her head toward Mako. “What?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Mako frowned.

“Mako, I am not in the mood.”

“I’m not the one who started a brawl in the middle of a flag football game,” Mako retorted.

“I think I’ve been punished enough for one day, thank you.”

“You think I didn’t get in trouble for your hot head? I could’ve lost my job, Korra.”

“Fuck,” Korra sighed. “Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t … I wasn’t thinking about the collateral damage. I’m sorry I got you into trouble.”

“You didn’t sign up for room inspections.”

“Right,” Korra sighed. “I forgot. I’ll get on that.”

“I have time right now,” Mako said. She finally noticed the clipboard in his hand. “It’s part of my job, and I have to turn it in by the end of the month. It only takes 15 minutes. Tops.”

Korra nodded. Her day was already shot to shit. What difference did 15 minutes make? She entered her room, beckoning Mako to follow with one hand.

“Asami?” She stopped in the middle of the room. Both beds were made (she suspected one had fresh sheets), and there was a Jack-n-the-Box bag on her desk. A note was beside it. She walked over to the desk and picked up the note.

_Korra – I figured you’d be hungry. I think you’ve burned enough calories to earn this. I’m going home to help Dad with the project. Call me. – Love, Asami_

“Korra?”

“Hm?” Korra looked up to see Mako staring at her. “Sorry. What was that?”

“Could you check to see if the bathroom’s clear?”

“Sure,” Korra smirked. She knew Mako was skittish about walking in on a half-naked woman. She knocked as she usually did, then turned the handle. The door swung open and she turned on the light. The mint-green and cream tiles were clean and dull, the usual shadows falling from the three lightbulbs over the sink. “All clear.”

“Great,” Mako said from behind her. “I’ll start there.”

She stepped aside and let Mako enter the bathroom. Leaving him to his clipboard, she plopped down on her chair and opened the fast food bag. Inside was a small bag of tater tots, a carton of orange juice, and two breakfast sandwiches wrapped in greasy waxed paper.

Korra opened one to find a croissant sandwich with ham, bacon, egg and cheese. She devoured the first sandwich, all the tater tots, and half of her orange juice by the time Mako stepped out of the bathroom. She watched as he checked the suite door and its vent. Then he checked the bed frame, even getting down on his hands and knees and using a flash light to look under the bed.

She rolled her eyes and started on her second sandwich. She was getting sleepy, and stiff. She just wanted a shower, in private, and time for a little waterbending to ease the ache growing in her legs and back. And sleep. She had class at 10a. She could sleep until 9:30a.

“That’s not very healthy.”

Korra swallowed as she raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know salad bars were open at six in the morning.”

“I mean … you’re an athlete,” Mako said, inspecting the plug where she’d plugged up the refrigerator and microwave. “You need a well-balanced diet.”

“D’you know what LeBron James eats before every game? Skittles.”

“Yeah, right,” Mako scoffed. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“I’m just saying.” Korra paused to drain the last of her orange juice. “A little junk food can’t kill skills.”

“You call starting fights ‘skills’?”

“I _didn’t_ start it.” Korra put all of her trash in the bag, crumpled it, and tossed it into the metal wastebasket. “I finished it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you _like_ knocking heads?” Mako stared up at her A/C vent over the hallway. “You have a problem with the temperature?”

“Not really,” Korra shrugged. “I like it cold. Asami complains about it all the time.”

“Does she have a space heater?”

“I think so.” Korra shrugged.

“Tell her I can’t see it when I do her room inspection,” Mako said. “It’s a fire hazard.”

“Where is she supposed to hide it?” Korra gestured toward the bed. “You’ve left no stone unturned.”

“I’m not telling you how to break the law.” Mako huffed, opening the door to her closet. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out.”

“ _Woman_.”

“Smart _woman_ ,” Mako said. “Jeez, how many pairs of sneakers do you _need_?”

“I like my shoes to match my clothes. Is that a crime?”

“How can you afford all of these?”

“I have relatives, you know.” Korra tilted her head, unwilling to tell Mako how half of those shoes were purchased on funds from street racing. She’d told her parents they were donations given to the school. Which wasn’t a total lie; _one_ pair of those shoes was a donation. “And you’re obviously not a sneakerhead. Most of those shoes are like two years old. I didn’t buy them all in one day.”

“Well,” Mako said, closing the closet door. “Don’t get used to having the closet to yourself. You never know when they might assign you a roommate.”

“I know, I know,” Korra sighed. “Any other words of wisdom? Captain Killjoy?”

“Read before you sign,” Mako said, handing her the clipboard.

Korra glanced over it, checking each item and the score Mako gave her. "Why are my appliances ‘unsatisfactory’?”

“Your power strip is not functional as a circuit breaker.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That model should have a tiny green light on the side.” Mako beckoned her over. Korra stood up with a grunt and walked over to look at where he was pointing. “See that little clear bump in the plastic? That should be a green light. The fuse was probably burnt out during a previous power surge. You need to replace it.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Korra quickly glanced over the remaining items, signed and dated the form, then handed the clipboard back to Mako. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Now get out.”

***

Korra chuckled as Opal eased into her seat with Bolin’s assistance. “You, too, huh?”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Like we’re the ones who needed to burn extra calories.”

“Opal.”

“Don’t ‘Opal’ me,” the green-eyed woman huffed. “You know those girls were fat.”

“Opal. We’re athletes. _Most_ _women_ have more body fat than us. They’re supposed to.”

“ _Those_ _women_ were fat. Even my grandmother could see that. And she’s _blind_.”

Korra blinked, heart in her throat. “Blind?”

“She was born blind.” Opal was digging through her backpack, unaware of Korra’s reaction. “You’d never know it. She has this judo sense or something. Oh! That reminds me. Grandma says you two can bring me home for the weekend.” Opal smiled hopefully at Korra. “If … that’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Glad to.”

“What about me?” Bolin pouted. “You have away games every weekend until Thanksgiving. This is the last weekend we have together.”

“That’s why I want to go home, Bolin.” Opal patted Bolin’s cheek. “Grandma’s in her eighties.”

“I know,” Bolin whined. He held Opal’s hand to his cheek and whimpered.

The professor started class, and Korra soon found her mind wandering as he discussed the parts of a persuasive essay. Toph. She’d brought Toph, too. It had to be her. It made sense that Opal was a little rough around the edges. She was raised by the “original Beifong”.

She couldn’t pull out her phone while she was sitting on the first row, but she was itching to text Asami. They had to go meet Opal’s grandmother.

***

Later that afternoon, Korra, Opal and Bolin sat on the steps of Settegast Hall, facing the parking lot. Opal’s team travel bag, her backpack, and her purse were carefully stacked at Opal’s feet. Bolin sat behind Opal, arms wrapped around her in the cool breeze.

Bolin and Opal wore matching green hoodies with a squirrel eating a chicken tender on the front. Korra had seriously considered getting that same hoodie when the Greeks were fundraising in front of the University Center, but they didn’t have any blue ones.

A loud, heavy sigh came from Bolin. Korra rolled her eyes and smirked as she looked back at the couple from her seat on a lower step. “You’ll see her Sunday night, Bo.”

“But that’s a school night,” Bolin whined. “It’s not the same.”

“Jeez, Bo,” Korra laughed. “You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend before.” Just as Korra was turning her head to scan the street, she caught Bolin’s shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Opal chuckled. “You remember that weird macho routine? He’s lucky I didn’t hip-throw him.”

“Yeah,” Bolin sighed. “It always seemed to work for the other guys. And Mako’s got that whole ‘tall, dark, and mysterious’ thing. But the girls always saw me as just a friend, or ignored me, or thought I was stupid, or gay. I never really found anything that worked for me.”

“NKOTB,” Opal said before she kissed him on the chin.

“Yeah.” Bolin smiled and kissed Opal’s temple.

Korra grinned at her friends. Maroon caught her eye and she turned her head in time to see Asami’s Satomobile waiting for traffic to pass so she could turn into the drive that led to the residential parking lot, the left indicator blinking. “Asami’s here.”

Bolin whistled as they watched Asami turn into the drive and make her way toward the parking lot entrance. “I’ve never seen a Satomobile up close before. It looks so futuristic.”

“Asami was right,” Opal said, standing up and dusting off her butt. “The new Bugatti is a rip off her design.”

“She built it when she was, like, 15. _And_ it gets over 30 miles to the gallon,” Korra said, grinning as she stood up with her small gym duffel. She loved bragging about her wife.

Bolin, Opal and Korra put their bags in the trunk. Korra hopped into the passenger seat and grabbed Asami by luscious, long locks and slipped her tongue under her wife’s. When Asami moaned, Korra pulled back with a grin. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Asami murmured, wiping lipstick from Korra’s mouth with a cool thumb. “You ready?”

“For Toph Beifong?” Korra chuckled. “Never.”

“We can’t get in if you don’t get out, Korra.” Opal stood outside of the open passenger door, one hand on her hip. Bolin gave Korra a double thumbs-up from behind Opal’s back.

“Oops.” Korra got out and let the seat back forward so they could get into the backseat of the car.

Once they were settled, Asami guided her Satomobile onto Wheeler Avenue, then took Cullen Boulevard toward I-45. She stayed on the feeder and bore to the right as it turned into Pease. They were now in Old China Town. The New Chinatown was on the west side of Houston at the other end of US-59. All that was left of the Old China Town was the original Kim Son Ballroom and a few street signs.

They turned on St. Emanuel along the side of Kim Son. Across the street was a warehouse connected to what looked like a metal barn. At Opal’s direction, Asami turned into the driveway in front of the barn door. Instead of the traditional barn doors, an industrial metal garage door secured the wide opening.

Korra got out of the car. Bolin and Opal climbed out of the backseat and Opal led him around to the front of the building. They passed a pole holding up a yellowed and faded illuminated sign that read “Bandit’s” in English. She couldn’t read the Chinese characters above and below the English letters. Korra closed the door and walked around to Asami’s side, her back to the building, eyes scanning the street, arms folded over her navy-blue hoodie with a white Nike swoosh on the chest.

“We had prom at Kim Son,” Asami said through the open window. “Some of the parents were worried about their cars. Dad assured the other parents that the owners would never let anything happen to any of their customers’ vehicles. To prove the point, he even let me drive _this_ to it. Wasn’t a scratch on it.”

“Triads?”

“You couldn’t prove it, but they’re an old family.” Asami shrugged. “Well connected.”

“Lots of eyes.”

“Exactly.”

Korra chewed on her cheek as she scanned the street. She started tapping her foot, letting the vibrations filter through her earthbending. She wasn’t in the proper stance, but with her metalbending she could sense enough. “There’re cameras _everywhere_.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why did you drive this car? Why not your Camry?"

“Because I know they’ll recognize whose it is and they won’t let anyone touch it,” Asami said. “They have a good business relationship with us, and they would love to use ‘my protection’ as an excuse to bargain for a discount. You see that gate over there?”

Korra looked over the car where Asami had nodded. She saw a wrought iron gate abutted the metal barn, encompassing fairly new concrete. Korra nodded.

“That’s an overflow lot for Kim Son parking,” Asami continued. “I bet they own this entire block.”

“So … Toph’s paying them to stay here?”

“Possibly. Or, she could be a member of the family.”

"No way,” Korra said. “Opal said they needed money.”

“Blood or not, there’s no way Toph could operate in this location without the family’s approval.”

A clang followed by a piercing creak heralded the opening of the metal door and the end of their conversation. Korra turned and watched as the gate rolled up and revealed four people standing in a very large garage. Two were Bolin and Opal who were waving at Asami to pull into the garage. The third was Toph Beifong, blind, with her long gray hair wrapped in its usual bun, easily pulling the chain that operated the heavy door.

And between Toph and the couple, in a simple blue dress with a beaded tribal necklace, was a shrunken white-haired woman with a wrinkled, kind smile and laughing blue eyes.

“Katara?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4,000+ words!!! OMG.
> 
> Sigh. If I had an editor they would despise my inability to keep it concise. Or meet deadlines.


End file.
